


Revision

by Pernicious_Feb 14 2001-July 29 2018 RIP (Malicious_Intent), Til_Death_Do_Us_Part (Malicious_Intent)



Category: For Honor (Video Game)
Genre: Ademar is alive, Aftermath of Torture, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Betrayal, Bitterness, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Body Paint, Branding, Cannibalism, Crying, Dark Past, Distrust, Drinking, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Execution, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fights, Flashbacks, Fluff, Graphic Description, Hate Sex, Hatred, Healing, Heartbreak, Homosexuality, Human Sacrifice, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, Injury, Injury Recovery, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Mental Breakdown, Nightmares, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Pain, Past Torture, Permanent Injury, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner of War, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Resentment, Rituals, Sacrifice, Self-Hatred, Sleep Deprivation, Suffering, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Verbal Humiliation, Vikings, Violence, War, War Crimes, Worsh, Worship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicious_Intent/pseuds/Pernicious_Feb%2014%202001-July%2029%202018%20RIP, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicious_Intent/pseuds/Til_Death_Do_Us_Part
Summary: Nearly a decade ago Holden Cross made a decision that he's regretted for so long. He's kept his guilt to himself, refusing to let it hinder his part in Apollyon's plans.But then someone who he was never supposed to see again shows up and his lord sends him to dispatch the "deserter", but Holden can only wonder... Who deserted who? How, if it was even a possibility, could he fix this?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. Someone requested my thoughts on Daubeny's origins while also asking for a Daubeny/Cross pairing. Not sure how far I'm going to go with that, it's more going to be the focus on their history more than their relationship.
> 
> Also, Ademar's alive... and jealous.
> 
> PLEASE READ TAGS. I'M NOT SURE HOW DETAILED I WILL BE WITH THIS.
> 
> NOTE: first chapter will be journal-like and first person from Holden Cross' POV, but the rest will be from Daubeny's and in Third person.
> 
> You guys also have some of a say in this story. While the main storyline will be solid, I could add scenes or explanations should you guys want it.

_The Vikings were in the way. Their raiding had led them farther into Ashfeld than we were used to, and a large raiding force of them had taken up temporary residence in a conquered stronghold not far from their borders._

_The stronghold was blocking the Blackstone Legion's advance, the walls protected for miles on both sides by a sheer cliff that dropped in a gaping chasm of darkness. Going around would take too long and undoubtedly prevent us from reaching the other half of the legion in time, so going through was the only option we had if we wished to meet up with the other half of their forces before they were destroyed by the Redhawk Legion._

_It wouldn't have been a difficult task to destroy the stronghold and the vikings inside, but Apollyon demanded that we not show any hostility towards the vikings. At least not yet, not until she was ready for that part of her plan, so she had ordered me, Holden Cross, to find a way through that didn't involve angering the warriors currently residing within the stronghold. A fact I found resentfully amusing, considering the heathens were the ones staying in a stronghold that wasn't theirs in the first place, but I was loyal to Apollyon and did as ordered._

_This was how I found myself being forced to wait until summoned by the viking leader, a big bear of a man known only as Ragnar. He and his crazy second Siv had been the ones to lead their raiding party this far into Ashfeld. Brave, considering they would have to get back to Valkenheim at some point, and it wasn't a short journey. The fact that they made it this far from their border was a rather lucky occurrence as it was._

_I had a bit of trouble keeping control of the rage that was beginning to grow as I waited for an audience with a man that had no right being here in the first place, and Ragnar undoubtedly knew it. It was with this knowledge that he forced his 'visitor' to wait under guard for several hours before his curiosity finally got the best of him so that he ordered for the me to be brought in._

_"Ragnar." I spoke up in a neutral tone. No way was I going to use fraudulent words with the savage, not that the my obvious contempt mattered. It only made the vikings surrounding me roar with laughter, and if I'd had my poleaxe I possibly would've split the table in two with my frustration._

_"You seem to be upset about something," Ragnar stated, looking around the room with a grin before turning his attention back onto the lawbringer standing a few meters away, gesturing. "But I can't seem to figure out why."_

_The vikings roared with laughter again, while I merely waited for it to stop, face dark with a mix of emotions that didn't mean anything good for the massive warrior sitting in front of me._

_"We need passage through this stronghold." I announced over the ruckus, silencing those still snickering. "My master requested that I do so without bloodshed, and would like to know your price."_

_Ragnar laughed loudly, his cronies joining in for a third time, the collective laughter creating a mortal thunder in the open room while I was forced to wait for the noise to cease._

_"I didn't think your kind dealt with ours, especially considering we took this stronghold by force and executed all the soldiers that had been stationed here." Siv stated from where she sat nearby Ragnar, the berserker dwarfed by the larger man's bulk._

_"I do not question my Master's orders." I answered firmly, body straightened in an authoritative way. "We know it's your nature to feed off of other's wealth since you're incapable of making your own."_

_The amusement in Ragnar's face was gone in a moment, replaced by a sort of anger any other man would fear, but I remained firm and unmoving as Siv leaned towards her leader, speaking rapidly in their language so the knight would be incapable of understanding. Finally, Ragnar looked up. "Supplies and a soldier or two."_

_I tried to process the statement, unsure of what was being demanded. "What?"_

_"Supplies. Food, mead, oils. A handful of your officers. That's our demand. In exchange, you will be allowed to pass through this stronghold unhindered." Ragnar repeated himself, looking rather smug with the way the knight was reacting._

_"I cannot give you blackstone officers! That would make our passage through here meaningless!" I'd responded loudly, standing firm in my refusal. No way was I going to agree to that!_

_Ragnar shrugged his shoulders. "Then you don't need to pass through as badly as you first thought." The viking answered, tossing the chicken leg that he'd been holding to the dogs lying at his feet. They set upon it with a snarl, the bone splintering within moments as they fought over the meager portion._

_"Surely there's something else you'd want?" I asked in frustration. I did not want to return to Apollyon in failure of securing our passage. "What purpose would you have for some of my soldiers?"_

_Siv was whispering to her leader again, motioning with her hands as if to emphasize her words, the bigger viking regarding her for several moments before turning to look at Holden again, the other warrior waiting expectantly. "Just one then. A blackstone soldier of high stature."_

_Even though his expression remained hard and impassive, I'd felt the anger begin to build again. "Out of the question." I responded sharply, the vikings murmuring to one another._

_"We could just take you," another man stated from the far end of one of the tables._

_I turned to face the new speaker, unamused. "Then you would have the full force of Blackstone falling against these gates within the hour and you wouldn't be able to withstand it long enough to pass the food you just ate." I answered sharply, turning to look back at Ragnar. "And I don't think you want to take that chance."_

 

_I turned to leave the room then, Ragnar's voice following after me. "_ _Think carefully, Venn," he called after the departing warrior, "does the life of one soldier mean so much to your master?"_

_***_

_I had informed Apollyon of Ragnar's demands as well as how I'd refused to do as the vikings had requested, the warlord only nodding and placing a hand on my shoulder before she quietly left, vanishing among the thousands of tents. At the time I had truly had no idea where my master had gone until the next morning, when she informed meto get the force ready to march. She had gone and negotiated our passage herself, somehow reaching an agreement with the vikings that would allow the blackstone forces passage through the stronghold. Or maybe she'd threatened._

_Thinking that everything would be fine, I had passed on the order for the soldiers preparation to Hervis Daubeny, my second in command, that he see to it that the legion was ready to march at Apollyon's order._

_It wasn't until we had passed through the gates to where a small band of Vikings were waiting that I began to feel uneasy._

_Some of the soldiers were carrying bags of different foods, mead, and other supplies, nervously making their way over to the towering savages to deposit their loads in a pile beside then._

 

_Upon entering the stronghold, Apollyon had immediately made her way over to the waiting vikings before turning around to look in my direction. "Daubeny." She ordered with her usual emotionless tone, beckoning to the warden standing to my left and a little behind. It was then that I understood what was happening, my assumption that Apollyon had appeased Ragnar with promises of gold or food from the storage wagons proving false. She had gone and made the deal her second had refused to._

_Even though he was helmeted, I could sense Daubeny's confusion as he obeyed. Obeyed the way he always did when ordered to do something._

_The warden's confusion vanished quickly enough when one of the larger vikings grabbed a hold of his arm, easily jerking the knight off balance. Now Daubeny was no big man, he was small in stature, and compared to the viking he almost looked like a child, but he still managed to twist his arm loose while his free hand went for his sword, withdrawing it faster than his captors could react before whipping it around towards his assailant. The Viking flung himself backwards to avoid Daubeny's swing, but the blade left a trail of red across the muscled chest and left arm, causing the savage to snarl as his companions fell upon their prize. A kick to one knee had Daubeny on the ground, though he still valiantly managed to retain his grip on his sword, holding it in a defensive stance before it was quickly ripped from his grasp as the vikings grabbed a hold of his arms and forced them back._

_Myself and the other officers could only watch as Daubeny was forced back to his feet, the bleeding viking stepping in front of him, the bulk of his body blocking the warden from sight for a brief moment, but by the movement of his right arm and the sharp cry that followed I knew he'd struck my second._

_The viking stepped back and I could see Daubeny again. He had dropped his weight on the vikings holding his arms, helmet turned downwards as he attempted to regain his breath, body shaking ever so slightly before he lifted his head towards Apollyon. "Master," he murmured, voice breaking halfway through the word, but Apollyon still stepped forwards despite his weakness, clawed fingers tipping Daubeny's helmeted face upwards so she could look down at him. "Head up, my wolf," she whispered, "they have so much more in store for you."_

_Apollyon turned away from Daubeny then, the warden trying to pull himself free to follow after the warlord, desperation in his movements as he fought to get loose, the vikings laughing as they easily held him back. It was then that Daubeny turned to look at me, his commander, with a look that held so much betrayal and fear in it that it haunted me in the years to come._

_"Sir? Sir, you can't let them take me!" He was saying, but Apollyon's hand on my shoulder had me turning away, had me following the rest of the army through the stronghold, but so did Daubeny's voice. He kept pleading, asking what he'd done, but I had no answer. Gave no answer. I'd left the warden there to die._

_Apollyon brought Ademar to me that night. "Gifted" him to me as if he were a toy, a thing. "You're new second to do with as you wish_ _"  is what she'd said, and I had. I'd thought Ademar would be enough to replace Daubeny, but they were two very different people, like night and day. Not that it would matter. In time I'd forget Ademar's predecessor and be content with my current second. The nightmares haunting me about what happened to Daubeny would end and I'd forget._

 

I was never supposed to see him again, yet here he was standing right in front of me. The same man, the same armor design, but so different. The way he held himself, the way he spoke and conversed... This wasn't the wolf I remembered, nor the fight I'd expected when I was sent here to execute him for his "desertion".

 

When I grabbed Daubeny's sword, his grip tightened on it, refusing to let me take it, and I felt a flicker of hope. Hope that there was still fight in there, that that familiar defiance he'd shown every day he'd served me was somewhere underneath the current portrayal of cowardice and fear, but it vanished in a moment, Daubeny releasing his hold on the sword, and with it, my hope that he was truly back.

 

With the shorter's sword in hand, I walked over to the mercenary that had defeated Ademar in single combat -as well as spared his life- and knighted him. In front of both Daubeny and Ademar, the first of which just watched in an unsettling silence while the other projected a jealous air. Both of their reactions weren't what I had wanted or expected, but I ignored them while helping the newest blackstone recruit to his feet to hand him Daubeny's sword. I didn't realize until later how that could've been perceived as another betrayal on my part, even more so as I tossed the mercenary's sword at Daubeny's feet.

 

I was fully prepared to leave then, convinced in my righteousness of sparing Daubeny a deserter's death when something stopped me. Daubeny had somehow survived whatever he'd endured at the hands of the vikings as well as finding his way back to Ashfeld where he created an army, and I wasn't going to seize this chance? 

 

I turned back then, regarding Daubeny in silence before I looked to my men. "Bring him."

 

It was that order that seemed to strike a fire in Daubeny, the warden snatching up the sword I'd thrown at his feet, proceeding to kill two of the men that attempted to take him. I knew that the ex-blakstone wouldn't be taken without a fight, wouldn't go quietly with the legion that had betrayed and sold him to a group fo heathenous savages that no doubt tortured him for however long he was in their possession. Blackstone wasn't known for it's kindnesses either, something that was no doubt running through Daubeny's head as he fought off any soldier attempting to disarm him. It had been Ademar that finally did so, that being the moment when I had to turn away. It was too similar to another scene that I couldn't forget, so I left him in the hands of Ademar and some of the other warriors. Something that could've been a grave mistake, Ademar thankfully being incapable of doing anything without orders, so Daubeny was more or less whole when he was transferred to a horse and restrained there.

 

I knew that Daubeny wouldn't be happy with his arrest, nor would he be happy to see me, but I had to know what happened to him. I  _had_ to know what my had betrayal cost him. Had to know if he was still Daubeny. If I could make things better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to make this story have alternating chapters. Past will be Daubeny's time during his captivity (with the occasional chapter following Holden through his own time in Blackstone without Daubeny but with Ademar) and then the Present chapters will mostly be from Holden's POV and is from the time where the first chapter ended.

**9 Years Ago**

 

As he was forced to traverse the mostly empty halls of the captured stronghold, Daubeny's mind raced with possible explanations - _reasons_ \- that this was happening to him, but no matter how hard he tried none of them made any sense.

 

"Release me!" Jerking in his captors' grasp, Daubeny managed to get his boots up on the wall of the current hallway he was being forced along, the warden shoving against it so his weight impacted the two men attempting to keep a hold on him, knocking them back into the wall behind them. The slightest loosening of their grip was enough for the knight to yank his right arm free, swinging it around so his armored fist connected with the exposed face of the viking on his left, blood staining the steel as his assailant fell backwards with a snarl.

 

Scrambling to get to his feet, Daubeny spat curses as one of the larger men that made up his guard got a hold on his chest piece, smashing the shorter man up against the wall and knocking the air from his lungs.

 

In pain as his ears rang from the force of his helmet connecting with the stone, Daubeny wasn't able to react in time to the next incoming attack as he was dropped to the floor, the knight only managing to get up onto his knees, one hand against the wall as he attempted to stand when the blunt side of the berserker's axe smashed against the side of his helm to send him back down to the floor.

 

Daubeny lay where he fell, struggling to find the strength to move, to even  _think_ as rough hands grabbed his wrists and under his arms to force him back to his feet. Stunned as he was, the warden could only half-stumble after his captors as he tried to regain his focus.

 

They were talking to one another in that harsh language of theirs now, the raider walking ahead with that huge axe of his settled against one shoulder in a seemingly nonchalant way, none of them really worried about their prisoner making another escape attempt for the next little while.

 

Head downcast, Daubeny watched as the floor passed beneath their feet, the little group pausing outside heavy doors for a moment as two of the vikings moved to pull them open, the loud groaning of the wood loud enough for the knight to lift his head again.

 

They were in what might've once been the receiving chambers, though now it seemed to have been converted into a large dining hall, tables and chairs scattered about in a disorganized fashion. There were so many vikings, more vikings than Daubeny had ever seen in his lifetime, or believed he'd _ever_ see. It caused a nervous chill to begin to creep up his spine, almost as if the knight only just realized the danger of his predicament now that he;d seen the odds were completely in the vikings' favor. He couldn't fight them all. Hell, he couldn't even fight off the handful that had been sent to retrieve him, that thought producing the thus unanswered question... _Why was he here?_

 

The noise of the hall went deathly silent the moment the drinking warriors noticed the black and orange clad knight in the company of some of their own.

 

Daubeny uneasily glanced around him before he was given a shove forwards, the already unsteady warrior nearly losing his footing, the warden just barely managing to regain his balance just as he was shoved again from behind.

 

Some of the surrounding warriors laughed as he ungracefully staggered and turned around to face the vikings at his back, the glare he directed at them going unseen.

 

"Forward."

 

Standing his ground for a moment in defiance, Daubeny silently challenged the hulking man before him, the dining hall quiet again as the surrounding warriors no doubt excitedly waited for the violence that was about to erupt when a voice interrupted, speaking in that maddening tongue again.

 

Daubeny turned towards it, the source being a large viking sitting in the back of the room, the table he was seated at being slightly higher than the others. There were several other men seated around him, a single woman in place at his right hand side - the side of favourment or power - but the knight didn't spare any of them a second glance. The one who was speaking was their leader, he was sure of it. He was large and heavy set, helmet adorned with the skull of some kind of bull, beard braided in the traditional fashion of the vikings. He was so intrigued in his study that Daubeny failed to remain alert to his surroundings, the largest of his escort grabbing a hold of him again to drag him towards the viking leaders.

 

This time the knight had little trouble keeping his footing, somewhat recovering from the dizziness the initial blow to his helm had created, Daubeny able to stand on his own before the viking leader when he was finally released.

 

"He was trouble?"

 

The raider behind the knight gave a snort of amusement. "He fights like a  _bikkja_."

 

There was laughter again, but it ceased the moment their leader waved a hand for quiet.

 

The silence was deafening as the massive warrior seemed to look him up and down, his lack of expression coupled with an odd sort of half-smile only putting the captured knight at further unease.

 

"So you're the one your leader didn't seem to bothered by the thought of giving up? I can see why." The words seemed to strike a cord in those surrounding them, the vikings laughing and adding to the comment in their own language.

 

Daubeny didn't turn his gaze from the viking before him, deeming him as the one that possessed the most power and, therefore, was the biggest threat to his life at the moment. "I don't know what this is about," the knight finally spoke up, "I was just told I was here to make easy gold."

 

The obvious confusion that filled the atmosphere was enough to make Daubeny feel smug, but it quickly faded. He had to play this right if he wanted a chance of getting out of this room alive. Something that wouldn't happen if they called his bluff.

 

"Look, I'm a farmer. Blackstone just passed through and they said that I'd get a fair bit of gold if I put on this armor and stayed with them for a few hours." Daubeny motioned to the surrounding room. "Though this wasn't part of the deal."

 

The viking seated directly before him stared for several moments before sharply gesturing towards the knight. "Get his helmet off." He ordered.

 

Daubeny took a step back at the order, bumping into the raider directly behind him, the much larger warrior wasting no time in grabbing a hold of the warden's arms as the female berserker jumped the table to approach him. Watching her come the knight clenched his teeth and kicked out at her once she was close enough, though the other warrior easily avoided his attempts to grab a hold of the helmet to yank it off and toss it aside. She grabbed a hold of his hair to yank his face upwards, frowning as her head tilted in her obvious scrutiny. 

 

"Like what you see?" Daubeny questioned sarcastically, grunting when his arms were twisted a little more. 

 

"Hardly." The berserker answered, leaning closer. "I like men."

 

The room erupted in laughter again though it was quickly cut short by their leader pushing himself to his feet, fist crashing against the table. "Who is he?" He demanded loudly, looking around the room for an answer.

 

Someone finally cleared their throat, drawing the collective attention of those in the room. "I don't remember his name, but he's blackstone. Ultimately third in the chain of command from what I recall. Answers only to Apollyon and that big guy that was in here a while ago." The speaker announced, shrugging. "You got who you wanted, Ragnar."

 

Daubeny set his jaw as the female warrior turned to smirk at him and give a single, patronizing pat to his cheek before turning to head back to her seat, Ragnar easing himself back down now that he was reassured he'd gotten what he wanted. 

 

"Why am I here?" Daubeny questioned now that his attempt to deceive had failed, replaced by unseen resignation. Other attempts could be made later, but right now he needed to know what they wanted from him and how long he could stall giving it to them.

 

"Do you know who he is?" Ragnar questioned, clearly ignoring his captive's question as he pointed to the viking that had identified him, Daubeny turning to regard the warrior for several moments. He was large -though shorter than the men seated on either side of him- skin weathered by the extreme cold of Valkenheim. He also sported a thick red beard while piercing blue eyes coldly regarded the knight in return.

 

"No." Daubeny finally answered, giving the first (and hopefully last), honest response.

 

"Of course you don't." 

 

Daubeny turned his attention back onto Ragnar, the scarred warrior regarding him with an odd look. "You don't seem to remember the men your soldiers torture, do you? Only reason why Eirik is here right now is because your leader released him upon finding out some of her officers had him. She seems extremely interested in trying not to cause trouble with us." Ragnar explained, causing the knight's brow to furrow in confusion. "I never knew of a viking prisoner during the entirety of my time serving with Blackstone."

 

"Eirik's suffering isn't why you're here, though you will suffer a hundred times more than he did, we have more important reasons for needing you." 

 

"Then why am I here?" Daubeny questioned, trying to ignore the unsubtle hint of the suffering that was going to come.

 

 _Head up, my wolf. They have so much more in store for you..._ Apollyon's words plagued the warden's thoughts as he tried to push them away.

 

Ragnar silently stared at him for a few moments before seeming to decide to give an answer, the big bear of a man taking several swallows of his mead before doing so. "The secrets of your people," he finally announced. "We have raided for centuries and profited from it, but I'm tired of having to look for smaller targets. The samurai and you knights have larger strongholds than this one. Stronger, better defended, better bounty."

 

Listening to the warrior's explanation, Daubeny frowned in confusion. How did he know anything about the samurai's defenses? Not to mention he had no idea how he was supposed to give reports on Ashfeld's defenses and strongholds when most of them were abandoned. The Blackstone fortress was impenetrable, and he didn't know much about it's strength, nor the amount of soldiers defending it since the numbers were always growing.

 

"Your people have siege weaponry. Better weapons and armor." Ragnar was saying as the warden tuned back into his surroundings, realization dawning.

 

"I'm not a blacksmith nor a carpenter." Daubeny answered quickly, cold washing over him. "I can't build catapults, nor can I make weapons... If that's what you wanted, you should've asked for someone who specialized in that."

 

Ragnar watched him with a predatory look, causing the knight to shift uneasily. "As a high ranking officer you are required to know how the equipment works should something happen to it. Officers are in charge of the firing of the siege equipment, so you would be aware of the basic mechanics. Your armor and sword should be enough to help us understand how your steel is made, though I'm certain we'll find you have insight on that as well." The viking answered in amusement.

 

"I can't help you," Daubeny repeated, standing firm. He would not give up that sort of information for them to use against his own people! Besides, blackstone would come for him, wouldn't they? Cross would send somebody to get him back, especially since any information Daubeny held could be dangerous to the legion's plans! Plans he wasn't entirely enlightened on, but he had dangerous knowledge! Even a single peacekeeper should be enough to extract him, Mercy or Clemency were certainly skilled enough to do it!

 

Daubeny turned his eyes back up to Ragnar as he straightened his back as much as possible with his arms held behind his back. "I can't tell you what you want." He repeated.

 

"Oh, I think you will. Maybe not yet, but soon enough." Ragnar answered, motioning with one hand.

 

A boot connected with the back of the knight's knee, Daubeny twisting in preparation for the fall, but his captor kept a hold on his arms as he was slammed down against the table face-first while Siv watched with a telling smirk.

 

Ragnar leaned a little to the side so he could make eye-contact with the knight, shaking his head ever so slightly. "You can start talking or Siv can start carving pieces out of you," he announced, the berserker picking up one of the knives from the table to twirl it around, the light catching the blade in a taunting way.

 

"I can't tell you what you want." Daubeny repeated.

 

There was a dark chuckle from behind him now, the warden's gut clenching fearfully as he schooled his expression to hide his unease as Ragnar held up a hand to keep Siv from speaking up, the berserker obediently shutting her mouth.

 

"You will tell us, or you won't." Ragnar stated, directing the statement at the warden before him as he leaned closer. "Either way you'll be singing for us tonight,  _veslingr._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bikkja - bitch  
> veslinger - tiny wretch, coward


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. A lot of problems going on at the moment.

**Present**

 

Holden Cross could feel Ademar's gaze on him as he paced back and forth in the tent that had been erected for him in the exact middle of the legion encampment, the lawbringer trying to think of reasons as to why he had dragged Daubeny along with them. Perhaps it would've been wiser to have left the warden behind, but Holden knew he never would've been able to bring himself to do that. Or to release the younger man to let him go on his way.

 

How was he going to explain this to Apollyon when they rendezvoused with the rest of the legion? Holden truly doubted his leader would approve of him leaving Daubeny alive, much less bringing him along.

 

"Where is Daubeny?" Holden finally questioned, ceasing in his aimless pacing to turn his attention to the only other occupant in the room.

 

Ademar was silent for several moments, no doubt studying the lawbringer with that odd silver gaze of his. "He's in the stocks. I have him guarded. He won't be getting out if that's what you're worried about." He finally answered, words slightly accentuated by his northern accent. "Though I would like to know why we brought him?"

 

"I am still asking myself that question," Holden responded honestly, rubbing a gauntleted hand across his face in frustration. "Bring him here." He finally ordered, dropping himself down into a chair while Ademar gave a stiff salute and turned on his heel to exit the tent.

 

While he waited for Ademar to return with the captured knight, Holden clenched his jaw in frustration. He had no idea what he was going to say to his returned second. He didn't even know if Daubeny would answer his questions. The warden hadn't been compliant at all as of yet.

 

The sound of a scuffle caused the lawbringer to look up, the tent flap being thrown aside a moment later to admit Daubeny and two conquerors, the shorter soldiers forcing the prisoner into the tent. Ademar wasn't far behind, his demeanor radiating annoyance and displeasure.

 

Daubeny was shoved forwards so that he was standing a few feet away from Holden, the lawbringer silently regarding the younger man before speaking. "Sit." His voice made it clear that he had little patience, that his statement was an order, not a suggestion.

 

Without his helmet, the warden was easy to read. Daubeny always had been. Something that Holden had constantly warned him could be dangerous. But now the lawbringer could see the slight clenching of the other's jaw, the tiniest upwards tilt of his chin that spoke volumes of his blatant defiance. 

 

Before he could give the order again the conqueror to left placed a well-aimed boot to the side of his knee, effectively sending Daubeny down with a curse of pain, the reaction giving Holden the impression that it was an old injury that hadn't healed well. The lawbringer had noticed Daubeny limp whenever he'd been given the chance to walk on his own two feet, a weakness the conqueror had noticed and taken advantage of.

 

"Out," Holden ordered, motioning with his hand impatiently.

 

The conquerors dipped their helms before dutifully exiting the tent, Ademar crossing his arms in a challenging way. That was something new. Holden had dealt with defiance when it came to Daubeny -and rather liked it in some cases- but Ademar wasn't anything if not blindly obedient. 

 

Holden gave his current second a glare before giving a jerk of his head in the direction of the tent opening.

 

Ademar remained where he stood for several moments before turning and exiting the tent, body tensed as if preparing for an attack of some sort.

 

Great. Now Holden would have to resolve whatever issues had come up between himself and his second.

 

Now that they were alone in the tent, Holden felt at a loss for words, the lawbringer choosing to remain silent while studying Daubeny. The warden, still had one hand on his knee in a somewhat protective way, the younger finally looking up to make eye contact with his old commander.

 

How he looked so different.

 

While Daubeny had always been fair-haired, there was some whitening at his temples. A sign of the stress and torture he'd endured for the past decade. There were others signs too - more obvious ones. Like the scarring on his face. They were old scars, but they were completely new to Holden Cross, the lawbringer not recalling any scars on the other's face. 

 

"Just going to stare?" 

 

Daubeny's voice was cold and sharp, the warden speaking so suddenly that it startled the lawbringer from his thoughts.

 

"How did you get away." The way Holden said it made it sound more like a statement than a question, Daubeny regarding him with an odd look. "You mean how did I survive."

 

Silence fell between the two, venomous and full of nearly a decade of bitter resentment and hatred it was almost tangible.

 

"I still wonder."

 

The words were spoken quietly to the point Holden had to strain to hear them, Daubeny's expression taking on a vacant state for a brief moment before he seemingly snapped out of it and straightened up. "I'm not here to tell you what happened when blackstone abandoned me to the Vikings." The warden finally stated, voice void of emotion. "Quite frankly, I don't know why you didn't execute me, though maybe you're waiting to see what Apollyon wants."

 

The words were clearly a jab at Holden, but the lawbringer fought to keep himself from rising to the bait. Daubeny had always been clever as well as sharp-tongued, and he recognized that the warden would prefer him angry than asking questions. But Holden was set on getting answers. He would find out what happened to Daubeny if he had to beat... No, no that wasn't the way to go about this. Maybe he needed a firmer hand with the younger knight when they'd worked as commander and soldier, but Holden knew he had to be careful. He had no idea what Daubeny's mental state was, and until he had more details about what happened he had no idea what statements or actions could trigger the younger man. Holden had seen enough of those traumatized by war to know that was no way to get what he wanted out of the warden, but neither was he ever known for patience.

 

"Daubeny..."

 

No sooner had the name left Holden's lips that Daubeny was laughing, the sound bitter and completely unamused.

 

"Oh it's been so long since I've heard that name, I'm not even sure it's mine anymore."

 

The words, while spoken in anger and hatred, were underlined with pain and the tiniest bit of what Holden guessed was desperation. Things he'd never heard in the warden's voice before.

 

"Daubeny, I need to know what happened."

 

The younger man turned his face upwards to regard Holden as he struggled to get his leg back under him, to get back on his feet. "You mean you  _want_ to know. What? Can't sleep at night?" Daubeny questioned coldly, finally managing to get himself back up to his feet. 

 

Holden studied Daubeny in silence for a few moments. "I haven't properly slept since the day Apollyon handed you over to them." He finally answered, his words drawing a cruel smile to the warden's lips. "Since that day I haven't slept without fear they would come to me in my sleep. Every waking hour I had the same fear. Fear of the beatings. The torture. What they would think to do to me next." Daubeny's expression hardened. "I always believed someone would come back for me. But that belief was gone after the first year. Yet I still kept our secrets. I didn't give them what they wanted."

 

The lawbringer felt his stomach twist at what Daubeny was insinuating, the larger male uncertain of how to respond, instead choosing to allow an uncomfortable silence to fall between them.

 

"I thought you were dead."

 

The silence stretched on for several moments, Daubeny staring silently at his old commander before responding. "There were many times I wish I was."

 

*********

 

** 9 Years Ago **

 

Daubeny couldn't breathe. Neither could he reach up to loosen the noose slowly strangling him.

 

There was laughter around him as he fought and kicked in desperation, struggled to get his hands loose from where they were bound behind his back.

 

Just as he was beginning to lose consciousness, rough fingers worked their way between the rope and his neck, rubbing painfully against the raw skin as the owner yanked at the noose until it loosened enough to allow Daubeny to breathe. He choked on his breath as he tried to suck air back into his lungs, dizzy and weak as those around him continued to laugh at his predicament.

 

They were traveling back to the sea to rendezvous with the rest of the Viking raiding party and return to Valkenheim via their boats. The Vikings had thought it would be amusing to have one of their warriors put a noose over their prisoner's neck and then have another on horseback to make him try and keep up lest he be strangled. Injuries prevented Daubeny from being able to keep his footing for long, the warden going down to be dragged behind the horse for several moments.

 

How he'd wished they'd kept going and let him die, but now that he was able to breathe again, he stared up into Eirik's face, the bearded warrior's dark eyes alight with vengeful amusement. He was pushed aside, however, by Ragnar, and Daubeny immediately felt fear assault his heart as he struggled to get to his feet before the Viking decided to do it for him.

 

Ragnar watched him, gaze cruel and satisfied with the way his prisoner struggled. He could see the fear in those brown eyes, and he relished it. He knew what the knight feared, and it did things for the Viking only a truly evil person would enjoy.

 

"Look at you. Not so brave now, are you?"

 

That voice that Daubeny had become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks had Daubeny turning his gaze downwards. He found that it was better if he didn't make eye contact with Ragnar. The man was like a beast, taking such a slight as a challenge, and that was the last thing the knight wanted to do at the moment.

 

The blow came without warning, Daubeny biting his tongue to keep from giving Ragnar the pleasure of hearing him cry out, the warden not turning his face back until rough fingers wove their way into his hair, yanking his head up and back, forcing him to make eye contact with the larger man.

 

Ragnar was silent for several moments as he studied him, Daubeny making no move to speak or attempt to pull away as of yet. Why invite further injury to himself? He had found that being passive was the best way to go around things if he could manage it.

 

"Weeks. Weeks of this and yet you still hold onto the hope that blackstone will come back for you." Ragnar's words struck a cord within the warden, though Daubeny kept silent. The less he did or said to keep from angering the viking, the sooner he would be left alone again. "But even then, you still won't tell me what I want to know. Do you really still believe that you'll be rescued? If that was the plan, don't you think they at least would've attempted it by now?"

 

Daubeny's neck was beginning to hurt a little with the angle it was being held at, but he made no complaint, instead turning his gaze downwards to avoid meeting Ragnar's. It was an attempt to appear weak and submissive, to have Ragnar feel stronger and more comfortable in his place of authority, but the viking wasn't having it this time. He slapped the warden again, Daubeny quickly turning his gaze upwards again to glare at the taller man.

 

Ragnar smirked. "Answer me when I ask you something."

 

Silence reigned. 

 

All amusement vanished from Ragnar's face then, the viking pushing Daubeny away.

 

"Get going," he ordered, grabbing Eirik's shoulder as he passed. "If he falls, get him back up. And I want you to bring him to me tonight."

 

Those last words were almost victorious in dragging a sob out of the warden, but Daubeny bit his lip to keep silent, hands clenching from where they were bound behind his back in an attempt to conceal the trembling. 

 

The warrior sitting astride the horse Daubeny had come to hate gave a yank on the rope, jerking the knight a few stumbling steps forwards before he kicked the horse into stride. Those around laughed as Daubeny stumbled and nearly lost his footing, the warden scrambling to keep up with both his injuries and bare feet on the rocky terrain.

 

Worse was the knowledge that things weren't going to get better when they made camp. Things would undoubtedly get worse now that he'd invited Ragnar's attention again with his defiance. Defiance he immediately regretted. Holden had never made him regret defiance, in fact he'd almost encouraged it, even if he acted annoyed when he dealt with his firey second. Now those memories just served to further add to the suffering of the soldier. Memories that were tainted by his present predicament and Holden's blatant rejection - abandonment - of him that day. A day that seemed to be years ago. Not just a few weeks.

 

Not for the first time as he lost his footing again, Daubeny wished he could die. That Ashfeld would open up beneath him and swallow him into its depths.

 

Even the earth seemed to hate him as he was dragged over rocks and other painful barriers, the warden bruised and bleeding when the horse was finally slowed and Eirik was there, dragging him back to his feet. Even if Daubeny attempted to stay where he'd fallen, they'd beat him until he got back up. He was so tired. He'd never felt so tired in his life.

 

Worse was the thought that this was only the beginning of his suffering.

 

Again, those words came back to haunt him as they had consistently done these past few weeks...

 

_Head up my wolf, they have so much more in store for you..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. :)

**9 Years Ago**

 

Daubeny shivered violently from where he stood, bound to the mast of the ship as he had been for the past few days. Around him the vikings were sleeping beneath furs and tarps to ward off the freezing spray. The warden trembled as he stared at the only other person seemingly awake: Ragnar. The viking was propped up against the back of the longboat, watching his prisoner with a smirk of amusement and a mocking tilt of his head.

 

The warden shut his eyes as another wave washed up over the side of the boat, drenching him once again. It seemed as if the ocean itself were taunting him, preventing him from ever drying off or keeping warm. The salt of the water burned his wounds, but the knight barely noticed anymore.

 

Daubeny let out a broken sob as the boat creaked softly, water spraying over the exhausted warden yet again, the young warrior ducking his head in an attempt to shield his face without the use of his hands.

 

"Out of all the prisoners I've had on my boat, you are the one that seems least capable of adapting."

 

The voice was so close, almost directly by his ear, causing Daubeny to whimper pitifully as he turned his face towards it. Ragnar was beside him now, one hand holding onto the mast so as not to lose his footing, the viking all but towering over his shaking captive. "I don't think you've even slept."

 

Daubeny stared up at the man he'd come to both hate and fear, gaze darting between the viking and the other sleeping warriors around him. He felt trapped, which he was, helpless should Ragnar choose to do anything to him, he was incapable of fighting back.

 

"Do you want to sleep,  _veslingr_ _?_ " 

 

The question had Daubeny uncertainly making eye-contact with the bigger warrior, the knight unsure of how to answer. It could be a trick question, one that could have dire consequences should he answer wrongly, or it could be sincere. The latter would require him to show he was breaking, admit to his weakness in the face of his enemy.

 

A warm hand slid up the warden's neck to his cheek, Ragnar almost gently turning the knight's face back towards him, the viking chuckling at the way Daubeny's breath hitched slightly at the sudden warmth against his skin. "Do you want to sleep?" The viking repeated, his thumb running along his captive's lower lip.

 

Daubeny felt a brief flare of anger, the younger warrior nearly giving into the temptation to bite the viking, but ultimately decided against it. Even if he were lucky enough to do serious damage to Ragnar, doing so would only incite punishment. Punishment he had no way of defending himself against.

 

"Y-Ye-Yes." The warden stammered, trying to push down the hope that perhaps the viking would have pity on him and let him sleep somehow. Even if he remained bound to the mast, he could be covered with something.

 

"Poor  _veslingr_ ," Ragnar murmured softly, his hand moving to brush aside the hair clinging to the knight's forehead. He took a moment to study the shorter, humming softly in thought. The warden's hair was getting a bit long. He liked it short. He'd have to find a way to cut it at some point next time they humiliated him by shaving the beginnings of his beard. How the knight had balked the first few times, the act alone not bothersome considering the warden had been clean-shaven when they first got their hands on him, it was more the reasoning behind why they did it.

 

A soft whimper drew Ragnar's attention back to his shivering captive, the viking laughing. "You're so desperate aren't you? Desperate but too proud to ask."

 

Daubeny stared up at his captor for several moments before averting his gaze. Yes. Yes he  _was_ desperate. The thought of Ragnar turning around and leaving him there to the merciless sea was truly terrifying. 

 

"What would you give me?"

 

There it was. The question Daubeny had dreaded since the moment the viking had come to taunt him. The worst part was that, in moments like these, when he was desperate for something he needed, Ragnar didn't just take what he wanted. He would force the warden to  _offer_. Further demean him through his own words.

 

"I'll give you what you want," the knight answered, shutting his eyes to try and block out the viking. 

 

Ragnar chuckled softly fingers moving to trace the half-healed wounds on the warrior's face and chest, the massive warrior smirking when the warden hissed in pain when his fingers moved to the wound on his neck that had been caused by the noose. "What is it I want?" He finally questioned, the viking feeling quite amused when the warden's eyes cracked open. He could read the war in them. Desperation and need fighting against pride and shredded dignity.

 

Fighting back the need to cry as he slumped against the ropes Daubeny tried to ignore the way his mind screamed for him to give in. How many times had he given in already? What was one more? Yet the warden hated the thought of submission. When Holden had forced it, he'd enjoyed it. Because they had respect for one another, a deeper bond than most commanders and their officers did. But with Ragnar? With Ragnar it was only humiliation, pain, and fear. 

 

"Perhaps you like the ocean more than I thought?" Ragnar questioned, hand absently running through the warden's hair as he sometimes did when he was thinking. "We could always tie you to the front of the boat if you wish. Then you could truly enjoy it in it's full."

 

Fear tore through Daubeny as his head shot up, the warden shaking his head rapidly, stuttering out a plea in his terror. He couldn't go through that again! The last time it'd been directly before the start of a storm, and Ragnar had mockingly informed him it would be too 'dangerous' to unbind him amidst the crashing waves. So the warden had been forced to endure for an unknown period of time, nearly drowning in the angry waves slamming against the boat.

 

A rough hand covered Daubeny's mouth, effectively silencing him as tears finally spilled over, lost amidst the ocean water constantly assaulting him. 

 

"I grow bored,  _veslingr._ " Ragnar murmured softly, "what will you give me if I untied you and gave you the ability to sleep?"

 

When the hand moved away from his mouth, Daubeny struggled to form the words, cold and pride trying to keep him from getting what he needed. "M-m-m... S-Submission."

 

Ragnar grinned widely at him, gaze shamelessly drifting along his captive's body before returning to his face. "How do I know that you will? What if I untie you and you suddenly decide that you don't?" He questioned, purposefully toying with the other.

 

A broken sob spilled out of the warden now, Daubeny pleading unintelligibly now. Fuck his dignity! He was so tired... 

 

"Please... Please, Ragnar. Please I w-won't do that," the knight begged, tears streaming down his face now. "Please I'm s-s-so t-tired."

 

Ragnar was laughing loudly now, the bear of a man barely shifting with the rocking of the boat. "So desperate to please, aren't you?" He questioned cruelly, finally shrugging a shoulder. "Who am I to turn you down?"

 

Once such words would've invoked terror and hate in the warden, but now he felt a flare of hope. He only had to endure for a little while longer, and then he'll be allowed to sleep. Ragnar didn't want him dead, and had Daubeny been in a better frame of mind he would've waited the other out until the viking realized he had to let his prisoner sleep unless he perished.

 

But gods he only wanted to sleep...

 

 

**Present**

 

Daubeny choked when a sudden pain in his stomach caused him to instinctively curl up in defense of the tender area, the warden coughing in an attempt to catch his breath as he looked up at the dark silhouette of the conqueror standing over him.

 

"Shut the fuck up, coward," the stocky male ordered gruffly. "Don't wanna listen to you whimpering and crying all night."

 

The warden remained unmoving as the conqueror turned to leave him alone again, his absence allowing Daubeny to see the dark form of Ademar, the other knight having been hidden behind his guard. 

 

Daubeny stared up at Ademar, the man that had so quickly taken his place at Holden Cross' side, but just as his gaze judged the other, the oddly luminous silver one sized him up.

 

Twigs snapped beneath Ademar's boots as the knight approached the other, stepping into the his reach without fear. But why would he? Daubeny inwardly questioned. He posed no threat to him. As much as he hated to admit, he was in Ademar's territory now. He was the outcast. The coward. The deserter.  _He_ was the one who should fear Ademar. That thought alone had Daubeny's gaze darting towards the two conquerors and lawbringer nearby, his guards comfortably conversing around a flickering fire. At least he wasn't truly cold, having not yet been stripped entirely of his armor, something that was truly odd to him.

 

"You shouldn't have come back."

 

Daubeny exhaled slowly as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, scooting back against the wheel of the storage wagon behind him. "I don't know if you noticed, but it wasn't by choice." He answered quietly, motioning to the chains on his wrists, the metal clanking softly in confirmation.

 

"I mean you shouldn't have come back to Ashfeld." Ademar responded darkly, voice cold though there was something else in it that Daubeny had trouble identifying. 

 

The captive warden chuckled softly, the sound so void of emotion it could make anyone uneasy. "Again, not by my own choice." He answered in a near-whisper. 

 

Ademar crouched down in front of him, the firelight behind him casting shadow over his face, preventing the other warden from truly distinguishing features. "You seem to let others make a lot of your decisions for you." The silver-eyed knight stated.

 

Smirking faintly, Daubeny leaned forwards so that his face was centimeters apart from Ademar's. "And how would you describe yourself when it comes to orders? That's why Apollyon picked you for Cross, isn't it? Because you don't question orders?" The knight shook his head as he made a tsking sound. "Not to mention how quickly you seem to climb into his bed."

 

The strike somewhat startled Daubeny. He'd witnessed blackstone's treatment of numerous prisoners during his service to the legion, and he was well aware of the fact that it wasn't kind. Specifically for traitors and deserters. Still, the metal gauntlet connecting with his face surprised him, Daubeny freezing up as fear began to worm it's way into his mind. He could sense Ademar leaning closer to him now, the other knight giving a snort of amusement.

 

"Be very, very careful, Hervis Daubeny." The dark-armored knight murmured, motioning with his head towards the three behind them. Daubeny could see his guards were watching him now with interest, the warden shrinking back against the wagon as Ademar continued speaking. "I could order them to show you how much more  _enjoyable_ our hospitality is compared to the heathens. I wouldn't even have to make it an  _order_. Just a suggestion, and they'll have you on your back faster than Holden ever did."

 

Daubeny's face flushed in humiliation, the warden looking up into those cruel, silver eyes before quickly averting his gaze. It was a defense mechanism ingrained into him during all the years he'd spent among the vikings, and it only seemed to amuse the other warden.

 

"I'll be making a suggestion to Apollyon when we rendezvous with her half of the legion," Ademar was saying, the very mention of the warlord sending a chill down Daubeny's spine. "I will tell her how much the vikings must miss their...  _Scultimidonus_. I'm sure she would agree."

 

Daubeny shut his eyes as Ademar pushed himself back up to his feet with a contented sigh, the dark-armored knight's boot knocking against the other's knee as he stepped over him, Daubeny biting back the groan that threatened to rise in his throat.

 

Listening to the receding footfalls, Daubeny finally let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in, his heart still racing with fear. Was Ademar serious? Would he truly do either of those things should he see fit to do so?

 

Yes. Yes he would. Because Ademar felt threatened by Daubeny's presence, though the captive warden couldn't understand why.

 

He'd been dumped before. Traded like livestock. Blackstone would do it again should the need arise.

 

Daubeny's attention turned back to his guards, all three of them looking up at Ademar as he stopped to speak to them, then all three helms turned to look at him, the warden curling in on himself as he returned their gaze, heart beating frantically. Several moments passed where they stared at him, the larger conqueror slowly standing unpright.

 

Letting out a terrified whimper, Daubeny sat up again, the rattle of the chains keeping him prisoner reminding him that there was nowhere for him to go. The lawbringer was standing up now, but then a familiar form appeared between the two. The once teal and white armor now the traditional black and orange of blackstone, the warden looking as if he was speaking to the three guards before he began to approach the prisoner.

 

Daubeny felt relief wash over him as he moved to quickly stand upright, using the wagon for subtle support should his knee give out. 

 

"Sir," his saviour paused a few feet away. "Holden Cross wants to see you."

 

Staring at the man that had once been a mercenary, Daubeny's gaze flickered to the right to take in his guards, two of which were still standing. "Take me to him," he answered, inwardly hoping he didn't sound desperate.

 

The warden nodded and moved to remove the chains keeping him bound to the wagon, though Daubeny's attention was focused on the three behind the other, all of which were watching him as well.

 

Even if he was prolonging the inevitable, he would stall as long as he could.


	5. Chapter 5

**Present**

 

 

"Where are we going?" He'd asked for maybe the tenth time, Daubeny slowing to a stop as he did so, eyes darting around to try and figure out where they were heading. Everywhere he looked were tents, and though the blackstone camp arrangement had once been familiar, the warden was now effectively lost.

 

A few feet away the warden that had once been a mercenary turned to look back at him, expression unreadable behind his helmet as he moved to stand before the man that had once been his commander. "To Cross."

 

Daubeny silently looked around again, his nervousness creating a knot in his stomach. "The commander is always located in the middle of the encampment." He answered softly, shifting uneasily now.

 

"I'm aware of that, but I am following orders." The warden responded in a neutral tone, moving to grab Daubeny by the elbow, the taller warden ripping his arm away. "Don't touch me."

 

Silence fell for several moments, the younger warden looking up at the older in for several moments before turning to continue on his way, undoubtedly expecting the other knight to follow.

 

Hesitantly Daubeny did so, silently following his escort as they wove through the maze of tents. He tried his best to remain calm the closer they got to the center of the camp, but he was inwardly panicking.  _Why does Cross want to see me now? He saw me just last night. Is he going to order my execution now?_ The possibilities assaulted him, the fair-haired knight clenching his teeth as he fought back the panic. Ragnar only summoned him when he wanted... When he desired...

 

Fear rose up and swallowed him, the warden stopping dead in his tracks as memories began to creep from the dark corners of his mind: rough hands grabbing at him, laughter, pain and pleasure, the scratch of a beard against the side of his face. Thick fingers curling around his neck and constricting, choking him as he writhed and pleaded. There was a sour taste in his mouth now, it was hard to breath.

 

_Are you afraid, veslingr?_

 

Yes... Yes he was afraid.

 

_I can see everything you think. You're terrified._

 

A pause.

 

_Do you want to run?_

 

A sob, a nod.

 

_Then run, veslingr._

 

"Sir!"

 

Daubeny jerked backwards, reeling for a moment as he swiveled around in an attempt to regain his bearings, the warden landing hard on his ass with a yelp. Everything felt like it was closing in, the warden turning his head at the sound of laughter, a group of blackstone soldiers regarded him with wide grins from where they sat outside their tent. Glancing behind he could see a shadowy figure standing in the concealing darkness of a tent's shadow. The broad shoulders, the somewhat uncaring stance triggered a flare of horror in the warden, but it was the horns standing out on either side of it's head like a demon that ignited the fire.

 

_Ragnar. Ragnar is here._

 

Someone grabbed his arm, Daubeny twisting to the side and kicking out, his boot connecting with his assailant's hip, sending him down with a cry of pain. Taking the chance the warden scrambled to his feet and took off running, stumbling through the maze of tents as he searched for a way out, for a sign of his freedom. He could hear the excited shouting, the bark of dogs hot on a scent, the call of the name the vikings had given him:  _veslingr_.

 

Tripping over something that emitted a curse, Daubeny mumbled an apology before getting back up, a flicker of light catching his peripheral vision. It was a torch, discarded in the fall of the footsoldier he tripped over, the shorter man currently reaching to retrieve it. The warden was faster, snatching it up before tossing it atop one of the nearby tents. That would at least keep the vikings busy! The smoke might even cover his scent to prevent the dogs from properly following his trail.

 

Again he was running, the warden pushing past shouting soldiers that were heading towards the flames, Daubeny too far gone in his panic to properly distinguish where he was or think of where he was going and what he would do when he got there. 

 

Through the tents the warden could see the treeline of the forest, leading him to adjust his direction towards it. The forest would provide cover from archers and direct sight, giving him a chance to slip away unseen. He'd have a headstart, but not much of one. 

 

Daubeny stumbled slightly, the warden grabbing at his knee with a whimper of pain.  _No! No not now! It's not safe! Not until it's safe!_ His mind screamed, only helping to fuel the warden's terror as he pushed himself back up into a stumbling run. He was clear of the tents now, hope and fear assaulting his mind as one, the warden stumbling through the dark for the trees. They seemed so far away. It would be safe there. Safe for a little while. Safe-

 

A heavy force slammed into Daubeny's back, the warden twisting to hit the ground on his side, knocking the air out of him. 

 

"I got him!" Someone above him shouted, Daubeny trying to regain his breath and get up, but his attacker shoved him onto his front to straddle his back, rough hands grabbing his arms to yank them back. "No you don't."

 

The simple words were spoken with a sense of glee, like those of a predator that enjoyed hunting down their prey. 

 

Allowing himself to go limp, a broken sob escaped between his lips. " _Please._ " 

 

The sound of booted feet hitting the ground grew louder, the man atop him taking the rope he was passed to bind the warden's hands before getting up.

 

Some clarity was beginning to return to Daubeny now, the warden's vision full of black and orange as hands grabbed at his elbows to force him back up to his feet. He could see the soldier that had been the one to catch him now, the victor being a heavyset conqueror, though one he didn't recognize.

 

"Good work, Stone."

 

The voice sent a chill down Daubeny's spine now, the warden shrinking back against the lawbringer directly behind, the much taller warrior shoving him forwards with a snort.

 

Ademar was there now, the other warden helmeted now as he regarded Daubeny. The engraving in his helm looked as if it were grinning in amusement at his plight, the captured knight quickly looking away.

 

"So the coward tried to run? Typical, really, though I do wonder how you got out of the chains."

 

"Elias came for him, sir," a nearby conqueror stated, Daubeny recognizing him as one of his guards.

 

"Holden Cross sent me for him." A new voice spoke up, Daubeny glancing over at the newcomer. It was his escort, the warden rubbing the heel of his hand against his no doubt bruised hip.

 

Ademar turned towards the newest blackstone recruit, a dark aura taking on a presence, the dark-armored knight's hands clenching slightly. "If Cross wanted the prisoner, he would've asked me to retrieve him. You were his mercenary, and therefore a likely accomplice in his escape."

 

Elias' helm tilted up slightly, no fear in his form as he moved around Ademar. "Holden sent for me. He told me to bring the prisoner to him, and I did as ordered. You no doubt had other more pressing matters to attend to, and I being the next in command was the most reasonable replacement."

 

Listening in silence, Daubeny tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Elias was smart, using the same terminology that Ademar did to seem as if he were agreeing, subtly stroking the other's ego while appearing as if he were the lesser of the two. Clever. The mercenary had a shrewd mind.

 

There was a long stretch of silence before Ademar gave a snort of amusement. "Then by all means, whelp. Do what Cross wanted and bring him what he asked for," the taller warden ground out, "maybe this time make sure the coward doesn't get a chance to run off. I'll leave Jorrok and Brigida with you."

 

Ademar turned on his heel then, heading back towards the encampment nearby. Encampment with smoke still filling the air, though it brought Daubeny little satisfaction. Already consequences for his actions were running through his head, causing his heart to constrict painfully.

 

The rest of the group departed with the warden, leaving behind a conqueror and a female warden. 

 

Daubeny continued staring at the ground, shoulders slumped as he refused to make eye contact with Elias, the other warden's gaze burning into him.

 

"Come on," Elias finally ordered, turning to head back towards the camp while the conqueror leaned over to grab Daubeny's elbow, yanking him along as his companion fell in step on his other side. 

 

Nothing was said to him, nor did the conqueror do anything besides grip his arm a little too tightly, and Daubeny silently wondered if that was because of Elias' presence. He had expected a beating, perhaps even a whipping for what they saw as an attempt to escape, but none of those things had happened. Ademar didn't even continue to taunt him when the other warden showed up.

 

Daubeny's mind went blank when Elias stopped to push aside the tent flap, the warden standing aside to let the two soldiers drag their prisoner into the tent before following behind them.

 

All details of the inside were lost to the warden, Daubeny staring directly at the towering form of Holden Cross as the lawbringer turned away from two soldiers to regard him for a moment. Seemingly taking some unseen cue, the two quickly departed the tent at the heels of the rest of his guards, leaving him alone with the obviously angry blackstone commander.

 

Holden regarded his former second-in-command for several long moments, the lawbringer's anger never dwindling as he approached. He didn't notice the way Daubeny shrank back, the flicker of fear in his eyes as he was approached by someone much bigger than he, the way his hands fought the ropes binding them behind his back. Nor did he think before his fist connected with the shorter's face.

 

The blow sent Daubeny reeling, the warden staggering in a feeble attempt to keep his footing, the knight tripping up on the uneven ground.

 

"You burned nearly a quarter of the camp!" The lawbringer was shouting at him as he followed the warden's retreat.

 

Dread was building in the shorter warrior's heart, Daubeny's back connecting with the cot, causing him to recoil.

 

"I'm sorry, Ragnar!" The words were out before he even realized it, images of the viking standing over him in anger flickering through his mind's eye.

 

Holden's approach was cut off mid-step, the lawbringer staring down at the smaller knight in horror. He took in the way Daubeny was curling in on himself, the way the warden was openly sobbing, the terror in his eyes as he pleaded for mercy.

 

"Y-you told me to r-run! I-I-I'm sorry. Ragnar please don't hurt me! Please!"

 

The words horrified the lawbringer. Never before had he witnessed such a pitiful scene, never had he seen such weakness in the man before him. He'd hit Daubeny before when he was being a total ass, but the warden had never reacted so badly.

 

 _That was ten years ago._ Holden reminded himself,  _you don't know what the vikings did to him._

 

Staring down at the still sobbing knight, listening to the pleas still spilling from his mouth, Holden shut his eyes. He didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to fix this? How was he supposed to make Daubeny stop... Stop crying?

 

"Daubeny? _Daubeny!_ " The lawbringer shouted, trying to get the other's attention. He frowned when there was no response, Holden getting down on his knees to grab the shaking warden's shoulders. The moment his fingers came in contact with Daubeny, the warden suddenly lashed out, kicking and thrashing like he'd just been impaled on a spear. 

 

"Daubeny!" Holden shouted, tightening his grip on the smaller, confusion warring with uncertainty as the warden bucked and pleaded unintelligibly. Strong as he was, the lawbringer found it challenging to keep a grip on Daubeny, frustration building in him as he swung one leg over the shorter's waist, using his own weight to try pin Daubeny down. The warden's panic only seemed to grow as he let out a sound of terror, his blue eyes almost animalistic as he fought his old commander.

 

Sensing someone nearby, Holden looked up to see Ademar standing just inside the tent, watching with a bemused smirk on his face.

 

"Don't just stand there! Do something!" The lawbringer snarled, his current second shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know what to do with a coward throwing a fit." There was a certain amount of venom to the words, all amusement vanishing from the warden's face as he seated himself at the table nearby.

 

Holden was so tempted to get up and forcibly throw Ademar from his tent, the other soldier choosing a very bad time to start showing defiance, the lawbringer trying to focus on the panicked prisoner. He had no idea what was happening, nor did he know how to handle it. Should he hit him again? _No, that's what started this in the first place._

 

"sorry.... Ragnar... Please... I didn't..."

 

The big knight growled lowly before pinning Daubeny's hands beneath his knees and grabbing his face in both hands, forcing the warden to look up at him. "RAGNAR IS GONE."

 

Daubeny jerked slightly, blinking rapidly up at the man that had once been his leader, body involuntarily trembling when he realized where he was and the fact that the lawbringer was on top of him. "Get off me. Please."

 

Once he might've refused, but the panic in the younger's voice was enough to convince Holden to do as he was asked, the knight pushing himself up to his feet with a curse. He stood there for a moment and watched as Daubeny curled up at his feet, body shaking violently.

 

"Pitiful."

 

Turning towards Ademar now, Holden slammed his fist down on the table, startling both warden. "Get your ass up and get out. Don't ever come in here unless I ask for you." The lawbringer ordered darkly, Ademar staring up at him with wide, silver eyes. 

 

They stared each other down, each waiting for the other to back off, Ademar glaring for a few more moments before he looked away and stood up to do as he'd been ordered. "You shouldn't have brought him. He's a distraction. You should just crucify or hang him and leave it at that." A flare of arousal passed through the knight when Holden's hand caught him by the throat, the lawbringer's expression only serving to further excite him.

 

"Get out." 

 

Pushing the warden away from himself, Holden turned back towards Daubeny, finding his ex-second curled up tightly on the ground with a vacant look on his face. He didn't know what had happened, nor did he know how to draw the warden back from whatever mental hell he had gone to. The lawbringer grabbed a chair and viciously tossed it across the room, the anger flickering through him demanding an outlet. Usually there was Ademar for that, but no way was he going to summon the other knight when he had just forced him to leave. And what would he do with Daubeny during that time? The young knight was clearly in no mental state to protect himself, but neither could he stay here too long. The officers would begin to wonder what Holden was doing with the prisoner, and the lawbringer didn't want certain rumors to start circling. The fact that Daubeny had already tried to escape warranted punishment, and Ademar wouldn't let that go. His hatred for Daubeny seemed to outdo Holden's hatred for Ragnar at times, and that was saying something.

 

Muttering obscenities to himself Holden grabbed the chair he had previously thrown aside and set it back up, the large man lowering himself into it as he watched Daubeny. Hopefully the warden would come out of his trance-like state before long and he'd be able to get rid of him. For now, all he could do was wait.

 

 

**9 Years Ago**

 

Daubeny sat in the bow of the boat, pressed tightly against the wood at his back with his knees drawn up against his chest to make himself as small as possible as his captors ran around exclaiming in their own tongue, the knight feeling sick. It hadn't been long ago that the vikings had spotted land and begun preparations for landing, the news good for those that were free. For Daubeny he was terrified. They were now in Valkenheim, the territory of his enemies, and he was convinced that there would be no rescue. Apollyon's plans would bring her threw Valkenheim at some point, and a part of Daubeny hoped they would rescue him then, though the more sensible side reminded him that that could be  _years_.

 

A shadow passed over the knight, drawing his gaze upwards to watch a thick wooden beam pass over the ship. Nearby were wooden towers and bridges, dangerous looking things as they had no rails or such to prevent one from falling. The boat was drawing up alongside a stone dock, wooden buildings built along the northern section. It was well crafted, done in a way that the warden hadn't expected from savages such as the vikings. The knights, yes, samurai maybe, but never his captors.

 

The ship jolted and there was a grinding sound that caused a wave of uneasiness to pass over the warden, but he quickly relaxed after glancing up at Eirik who was standing nearby, his lack of concern informing Daubeny that the sounds were nothing to worry about. He'd grown adept at reading the body language and expressions of his captors, mostly those he was more... familiar with.

 

There was a thunking sound as a makeshift wooden ramp was propped up against the side of the boat, the noise made quiet by the sound of vikings shouting to one another from the docks and boats. Daubeny could see the other ships pulling into the docks while others still steered around it, presumably heading for another section.

 

Daubeny shrank back when Eirik approached him, the red-bearded viking grabbing him by the arm to pull him to his feet, the warden giving no resistance as he was pulled along the length of the boat to the ramp. Looking down over the edge of the frail-looking platform, the warden felt uneasy as he dug his heels in and fought Eirik's grip. The valkenheim winds chilled his bones, and the sight of the freezing water below terrified him. He wouldn't put it past Eirik to shove him off, said viking laughing at his weak attempts to stay on the ship, easily dragging the knight onto the ramp. It creaked beneath his feet, Daubeny's heart flailing within his chest as he instinctively pressed in close to the larger warrior, further amusing both him and those watching from the boat. 

 

Once his feet hit the stone of the dock Daubeny was able to relax and pull as far away from Eirik as he possibly could before realizing the dozen or so _other_ vikings on the dock he didn't know, the warden side-stepping to be closer to his most current handler again, the blue-eyes viking laughing at his predicament.

 

"What's this?" A new voice questioned, Daubeny uneasily directing his gaze towards the speaker. He was short, shorter than Ragnar for certain, clad in leather with the white and teal colouring of his clan, a bear head seated nicely atop his helm. He carried a short-sword and a rounded shield, dark eyes regarding the prisoner with a sense of interest. On each side stood another viking with similar colours, a male with an axe in each hand, and a female who stood taller than both, a spear and shield being her weapons. The fact that the three carried them while on the dock made Daubeny acutely aware of the tension between Ragnar's group and theirs.

 

"One of the knights. His warlord traded him in exchange for safe passage through an fort we had captured. He's Ragnar's  _argr_." Eirik responded, Daubeny's gaze averting itself from the vikings before him in shame. He was able to understand some of what his captor's were saying, but while some words were lost to him, the way they were spoken left nothing to his imagination. 

 

The bear-headed viking was laughing now in amusement, Daubeny tensing up as cold steel touched his throat, trailing up to his chin to force the knight to look at the man.

 

"Weak?"

 

"Defiant mostly." Eirik answered, pushing the other's sword away from Daubeny. "He's Ragnar's. Nobody touches  _Veslingr_ without his say, Stigandr."

 

Laughter sounded, but Daubeny could see the stiffness in the man's stature as he swung his sword up to prop it against his shoulder. "Ragnar doesn't share." He responded after a moment, tone somewhat accusing while Eirik just shrugged his shoulders. "Pay him an  _argaskattr_ and he might." 

 

Stigandr's gaze fell onto Daubeny, the knight holding it for a moment before looking away, causing the viking to chuckle. "Perhaps."

 

The group turned their backs on the knight, Daubeny feeling a flicker of uneasiness. "Don't!" He suddenly blurted out, body tensing when every head turned in his direction, the knight shrinking beneath the gaze of the vikings as Stigandr turned to look at him again. The warden had no idea what to do, no idea why he had spoken in the first place. A tiny part of him begged to be taken away from Eirik -away from Ragnar- and the assumption that this clan didn't get along with Ragnar's was enough for him. Though who was to say these vikings were any different?

 

Daubeny set his jaw and refused to meet the gaze of any of the viking warriors, the young knight trying to calm the pounding of his heart as Stigandr turned away again, his little group departing without another word or glance in his direction. Them leaving seemed to signal the others to continue helping in unloading the boats, Daubeny biting back a whimper when Eirik suddenly struck him across the face.

 

"You're such a  _hóra._ " The viking growled, the knight keeping his face turned away and gaze on the stone beneath his feet. His hands were shaking from where they were bound behind his back, dread slowly closing in on him as he was jostled by the dockworkers still unloading the boats. Now that he was in Valkenheim, what was going to happen? He still hadn't given Ragnar what he wanted, and he doubted the viking was really going to be all that patient for much longer. Stealing a glance towards the three vikings that had shown interest in him, the knight felt ill. He knew what was going to happen.

 

*********

 

Daubeny remained on his knees as Eirik exited, the warden's breathing ragged as he stared at the ground. There was nowhere to go the moment the door closed behind him, the sound almost mocking him as he was left with three unfamiliar warriors. Stigandr no longer sported his bear-crested helmet, the seasoned warrior seated at a table while the berserker was almost circling the terrified warden. The female was there as well, but seemed entirely disinterested in the stranger currently before her.

 

 

"Please," he finally spoke up to break the silence, body tense and quivering slightly, though not entirely from the cold. "Please I can't... I don't know what you want."

 

Daubeny flinched back when the berserker got a little too close, the knight's breathing hitching slightly as he turned his attention onto Stigandr. He was the one the warden recognized as being in charge. "Please. I-I don't know what you want." He repeated.

 

Head tilting slightly, Stigandr made a sound in the back of his throat that seemed almost disappointed. "Ragnar has a way with breaking his toys. From the stories I heard about you, you were a lot less interesting in the earlier side of your capture." The warlord stated, Daubeny shutting his eyes and turning his face away in shame. No, he wasn't strong... He wasn't the wolf he'd believed himself to be.

 

"We want to know what Ragnar wants."

 

The question had the knight looking up again, startled. "What Ragnar wants..?" He repeated, slightly confused. "I... I don't know. It depends on the-"

 

Stigandr waved a hand dismissively. "We know Ragnar didn't take you just to have someone to fuck. There's plenty of people for that. He wants something else, and we want to know what it is."

 

Realization dawned in Daubeny, the warden slowly pushing himself to sit back on his knees. "Why not ask Ragnar yourselves? I'm sure he would love to boast about it." He answered carefully, subtly trying to find out  _why_ that was so important to these warriors. He could tell by their colours that they were a different clan, and by the tension between the two groups on the docks was a sure sign of the tension.

 

"We would prefer that Ragnar not find out that we know," Stigandr answered almost impatiently, "so everything you say here you will not share with your master."

 

Daubeny's jaw clenched at that, the knight shifting uneasily. "I have no love for Ragnar, but no love is lost with the rest of you either." The warden finally answered, voice quivering slightly. "If I tell you, I want to be free."

 

The warlord laughed. "I cannot do that. Besides, where would you go? A sea stands between you and your people."

 

The fair-haired man shook his head quickly. "I wish to die. At least then I can no longer suffer." Daubeny answered, looking up at Stigandr with hope in his gaze.

 

"Ah," the bearded viking hummed softly before shaking his head. "I cannot do that either. Killing you would alert Ragnar to the fact that we wanted you silent, and it wouldn't be hard for him to figure out what we learned. Now, here is what we are going to do." Stigandr paused to take a drink from the tankard at his elbow before continuing. "You can tell us what it is Ragnar really wants from you and you leave here unscathed. Or Helvar can scalp you, you tell us  what we want anyways and then you leave here."

 

Horror rose up in Daubeny as he tried to twist around towards the berserker he sensed at his back, but the other was faster, grabbing a handful of his hair to yank his head back, the cold steel of an ax pressing against the skin along his hairline.

 

Staring at Stigandr in terror, Daubeny fought to free his hands as his mind went on a mental rampage.  _Should I tell him? If I do... Ragnar would... Oh gods I'm going to die here... They're going to... Will they really...?_ All coherence flooded out of the knight's mind when he felt a hot lance of pain in his head, the warden letting out a sound of pain. "He wants to know the secrets behind our siege weaponry!" He blurted, Daubeny's breath rapid and shallow in his fear as he tried to focus on Stigandr. "H-He wants to have the ability to raid bigger fortresses."

 

There was silence as the three vikings in the room processed what he said, hot blood running down Daubeny's forehead and into his left eye, half-blinding the warden, but he showed no outward sign of pain or discomfort. He remained as still as possible, breath rapid as Helvar suddenly released him, the knight shakily leaning forward to watch the blood from his head drip onto the ground at his knees to mingle with the dirt there.

 

"You cannot tell Ragnar that."

 

Daubeny didn't look up when the woman spoke, the knight remaining still save for the occasional tremor to pass through him.

 

"Here's what I'm going to offer you,  _veslingr_ ," Stigandr spoke now, his chair creaking as he leaned forwards. "If you keep your knowledge from Ragnar, then when we uproot his clan I will make sure you're free of him forever. All we want in exchange is the knowledge he wants."

 

The warden shut his eyes. Who was to say that this viking was anymore honorable or honest than Ragnar? 

 

"Will you kill me?" He questioned suddenly, Daubeny looking up now. "Will you swear to end me the moment I give you what you want?"

 

Stigandr raised his brows and sat back now, taking a second long drink from whatever was inside the tankard. "If I am the one to retrieve you, and it is within my power to do so, then yes, I will end your misery." The warlord answered.

 

Hope flooded Daubeny at those words, the knight averting his eyes again now. "Then I will keep my secrets a little longer." He answered softly, loosening his grip on the hope that his own people would rescue him. So far they hadn't even made an attempt, and he was beginning to see the truth: Apollyon had abandoned him. Nobody was coming for him.

 

"You must,  _veslingr._ Or else our deal is null and you are ours forever."

 

Dread rose it's familiar head again, Daubeny just giving a single nod in response.

 

"Now come here, and remember, this conversation never happened."

 

The warden remained silent as he obeyed. What was once - thrice more?

 

At least there was hope now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Present**

 

"You wanted to see me, sir?" 

 

Holden Cross turned his helm slightly to the left, looking down at the shorter knight for a few moments before nodding and turning his attention back onto Daubeny, his old second seated atop a horse with his hands bound behind his back. The beast was obediently following the supply wagon it was tied to, and for a brief moment the lawbringer compared it to both of his seconds. It was most similar to Ademar, his current subordinate almost always obedient - the type not to ask questions - while it was also similar to Daubeny now. In the past he'd have considered the fair-haired knight to be like a wild stallion, taking everything as a challenge while fighting human authority with tooth and hoof.

 

"How long have you served under Daubeny?" Holden finally spoke, Elias looking up at him for a moment before turning his head to look in the direction of the man he'd once worked for. "Almost two years, more or less," he finally responded, his horse keeping stride with the taller man's.

 

Silence reigned for a few moments, heavy as a tyrant's heel, before Holden spoke up again. "What was his mental state like?" It wasn't the way he had wanted to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind since the night Daubeny had attempted to escape, but the lawbringer had no idea how else to voice such a question.

 

"It... depends, sir." Elias answered, voice uncertain. "He was a good commander, took care of his soldiers, took care of their families," he added, seemingly thinking of each word before speaking it. "But at night came nightmares. I would hear him screaming, the noise of different objects breaking. Certain words, places, even scents would make him sick. Or that's what he'd claim, but I knew better."

 

"Knew better how?" Holden demanded sharply, tone holding an edge he hadn't intended.

 

Elias looked up at him for a brief moment before looking towards the topic of their conversation. "I've seen the scars, sir. I've heard what he's said when he thinks no one can hear him. The look in his eyes. The fear." The young warden paused for several moments, Holden impatiently waiting for him to continue. "We mercenaries called it the Battlefield Sickness."

 

A moment of silence passed before the lawbringer made an impatient gesture for Elias to continue, his face holding a mix of confusion and unease. 

 

"It's when what we do - what we see - comes back to us in our dreams. When we begin to lose our grip on reality, what's really happening and what our minds think is happening," the warden explained quietly. "As a mercenary, it meant the end of your career. As a knight? Most of them just keep on trying to fight, to serve their people, only for their sickness to destroy them. You lose focus, your cool."

 

Holden Cross was silent for several moments as he tried to process what he'd been told. "And you think Daubeny has this... Battlefield Sickness?"

 

"I am certain of it, sir." Elias answered, tone clipped and professional once more. 

 

"How do I help him?"

 

The question seemed to surprise the younger warrior, Elias' helm tilting to the side slightly as he regarded his leader in thoughtful silence for several moments. "I'm not sure, sir. From what I know, you can't fix it. Just maybe... Avoid doing things that can cause a... reaction." The knight answered after several moments. "Keeping him prisoner sure isn't going to make him forget that he was one to the vikings for a decade."

 

Holden turned his head to look down at the shorter knight, but Elias was already riding off as if nothing had happened.

 

Looking at Daubeny again, Holden's frown deepened. So Daubeny's reaction to being struck could be one of those things that reminded him of what happened with the vikings... Something that the lawbringer imagined happened quite frequently, though it couldn't have been the worst thing to happen to his second.

 

Elias' voice echoed through his mind.  _I've seen the scars, sir. I've heard what he's said when he thinks no one can hear him. The look in his eyes. The fear._

 

Once Holden would've said he had no idea what fear looked like, but when he had hit the warden, he'd seen it. Not fear, but terror. He'd seen little of what the vikings had done to Daubeny - the scarring on his face for one - but the wounds were small and of little significance. Elias was a seasoned mercenary, yet mentioning his old master's scars had given his voice a sort of edge to it. Disgust almost, though not towards Daubeny.

 

The lawbringer was left with even more questions than answers, the large warrior wanting nothing else than to shake the information out of Daubeny, but being aggressive or physical with the warden could cause even more damage to his mentality than there already was. No, he would have to be  _patient_ , and Holden  _hated_ being patient.

 

*********

 

 

"C'mon! Open your mouth!"

 

Daubeny clenched his teeth so hard it hurt, the warden's hands gripping the conqueror's wrist as his guard tightened his hold on the warden's neck. It was harder to breath, to focus through his fear, but still Daubeny refuse to do as he was asked.

 

"Just force it open. Can't be that hard, Huron," the second conqueror spoke up from where he crouched behind his companion. The lawbringer reached over to smack him, inciting a growl from the shorter. "Can't leave marks, remember? Or are you so dimwitted you keep forgetting?"

 

"Don't make this any harder," Huron rumbled, frustration leaking into his voice.

 

Daubeny refused to answer, trying to turn his face away from the other's prying fingers. It had been sudden, but not unexpected when his guards surrounded him, and he had mentally prepared for this moment, but that didn't mean he was going to make things easy.

 

"You'd think he'd be a more obedient  _concubinus_ after all that service with the vikings, wouldn't you?" The lawbringer questioned, Huron laughing. "I like them this way. Makes it more entertaining."

 

"Yeah, we'll see what you say when he bites your dick off." The shorter of the two conqueror's answered, eyeing the warden with uncertainty. 

 

"Oh, I think he knows better than to do that," Huron answered, grabbing Daubeny's left wrist to pin it beneath his knee, weakening the other's resistance. "I'm sure he doesn't want it worse than it's going to be."

 

The lawbringer sighed loudly, obviously growing impatient. "You said this would be easy, Huron. So far it's been anything but."

 

"Well I don't see you helping!"

 

Daubeny shut his eyes briefly, the hand around his throat never loosening as he began to feel dizzy.

 

"Just gotta choke him a bit. Then when he's out we can do whatever we want."

 

"That's no fun. Leave him somewhat conscious."

 

Things began to fade for Daubeny as the lack of oxygen began to take it's toll, the warden biting back a plea. No, he wasn't going to give them any sort of entertainment.

 

 

** 9 years ago **

 

Siv and Ragnar had had an argument about him... Violent and angry. Siv was angry that Ragnar had lent the warden to members of the warborn clan, that there was a possibility that their enemies knew what sort of information they wanted from the knight. Ragnar had insisted that they needed whatever it had been that Stigandr had paid for a single night with  _his_ prisoner. Siv had left in anger, leaving Daubeny to the mercy of the raider, and there had been none. The abuse and pain had been the worst he'd endured thus far.

 

Daubeny recounted all that had happened from where he lay on the floor. He was aching, in pain, eyes shut as he tried to push it out of his mind. When Ragnar had finished with him, he'd all but discarded the knight on the floor like trash. He was free of bounds, physical ones at least, as he lay half on his side, half on his stomach. Free of bounds or no, where would he go? He was in Valkenheim, the cold seeping into the building, through his flesh to his aching bones. Half-naked as the warden was, he wouldn't get far, though freezing to death seemed like a much better option. Yes, Stigandr had promised to end him should he give him the information Ragnar wanted, and the night he'd spent with the warlord hadn't been unpleasant, though no less humiliating, but who knew how long it would take?

 

The knight opened his eyes at the sound of Ragnar shifting in his bed nearby, hate flaring through the warden. Perhaps he could invite his own death by bringing it to another.

 

That thought stoked a fire in the knight, Daubeny pushing himself up into a half-sitting position, the young man wincing slightly at the flare of pain that traveled up his back at the movement.

 

Listening for a few moments the knight waited to ensure that Ragnar was truly asleep before pushing himself to his feet, the warden breathing heavily as he kept himself from making any noise of pain that might alert the viking to his prisoner's plan. 

 

Standing now Daubeny reached out his hands in front of him, feeling for anything in his path that might alert the slumbering warrior to his actions. The warden quietly felt his way along the room towards the side opposite Ragnar's bed, resolved to find what he was looking for.

 

Daubeny's heart fluttered slightly in a mix of excitement and uneasiness when his hand closed around the rough wooden handle of the wood-chopping axe. Lifting it up without any difficulty, the warden paused for a moment to relish the feeling of having a weapon in his hands again - the ability to hurt those that had tortured him nonstop for the endless months he'd spent in their care.

 

Turning back towards the sleeping viking, Daubeny made his way back over to Ragnar's side, hesitating for a moment before lifting the axe above his head. Several things happened in that moment: first there was the sound of someone screaming as if they were being murdered, igniting chaos outside. There was a flicker of light before the door was thrown open, Siv and Eirik forcing their way inside while the noise had Ragnar spinning around.

 

Daubeny felt the viking's knee connect with his ribs, pain tearing through his body as he felt something crack, the larger warrior grabbing a hold of the knight's throat as he stumbled, twisting him around so he hit the floor on his back, wrist pinned beneath his tormentor's knee. He was struggling to breath as he looked up at Ragnar in fear, trembling violently as the noise outside only increased.

 

Staring up at the mix of amusement and anger in Ragnar's eyes, Daubeny averted his own, the warden not attempting to wriggle loose as he submitted to whatever was to come.

 

"What in Odin's name is going on out there?" Ragnar finally spoke up, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen in the room, Siv and Eirik looking back and forth between the captured knight and their leader before the berserker chose to answer. "The warborn launched on attack on us. I think they're coming for him," she pointed at the panting warden with the handle of her axe. 

 

"Of  _course_ they are," Ragnar responded darkly, pushing himself up into a standing position, the raider bending over to grab his prisoner by the hair and drag him up onto his knees.

 

"Siv, watch him." The larger warrior ordered, releasing his hold on Daubeny as he moved towards the door. "If Stigandr or any of his dirty bastards get even  _close_ to him, I want you to make sure he can't tell them a thing."

 

Daubeny shut his eyes as Ragnar exited the room with Eirik following behind, whatever consequence for his attempt on the raider's life postponed for now. He lowered his upper body so he was on all fours, the warden reaching up with one hand to grasp at his side as he attempted to breath through the pain.

 

"Ragnar gets careless once and you attempted to capitalize, hmm?" Siv questioned as she moved to stand in front of the warden, the berserker grabbing a chair from nearby to drag it over in front of him. "Get up and sit." She ordered.

 

Looking up at her for a moment, Daubeny attempted to oblige, the warden painfully pulling himself up into the chair. His side hurt. There was definitely something broken. It hurt to breath.

 

Grunting softly as the berserker dropped herself sideways into his lap, Daubeny tensed up as Siv wrapped one arm around the back of his neck, the edge of the axe in her hand running along the side of his neck threateningly.

 

"Gotta say Ragnar looked a little excited catching you like that. Most fire you've shown in a long while." The female warrior was saying as she brushed her dreadlocks back over her shoulder with a smirk. "You seem so submissive at times, like you're finally broken, but then something like this happens and it's like you need to be taught a lesson all over again. I have to say,  _veslingr_ , you really know how to keep Ragnar coming back, don't you?"

 

Daubeny refused to look at the berseker, the knight struggling to fight back the tears threatening to build as he prayed for death. He didn't care how much it hurt, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.

 

"Don't be such a prude!" Siv shouted, startling the warden as he quickly turned to look back at her before averting his gaze again. The berserker laughed as she manuevered herself around so she was straddling the taller, settling herself with a smirk. "Come on, wrap your arms around me. Aren't you cold?" She questioned tauntingly.

 

The warden clenched his jaw as Siv grabbed him by the hair to make him look at her, head tilted slightly in amusement as she bucked her hips. "Now,  _veslingr_."

 

Daubeny glared at her for several moments before he reluctantly placed his hands on her sides, barely touching but touching all the same. Siv just snorted a laugh and grabbed his wrists to move them down to her ass as she rocked her hips slightly. "Don't worry about what's going on out there. The Warborn are outnumbered 4 to 1. The fact that Stigandr tried something so stupid is beyond me."

 

Averting his gaze again the knight just silently attempted to ignore what the smaller was doing, though the somewhat gentle touch was slightly arousing. Nobody had been gentle with him in so long, nor had anyone shown attention to that part of him for even longer... Daubeny's hands began to shake as he felt phantom hands begin to ghost over his body, their touch expert and familiar, firm but never hurting.

 

The door slammed open again to admit a bloodied Ragnar, the raider looking absolutely terrifying, like the god of death and decay had come for vengeance on the world. 

 

Daubeny barely had a chance to blink before Siv was shoved out of his lap and a sticky hand was gripping his chin. 

 

There was anger in the dark eyes above him, rage and violence boiling over as Daubeny let out a soft sound of fear. Some of the anger shifted over to arousal as Ragnar smirked and pushed his face away, smearing the blood from his hand over the warden's cheek and mouth. He slammed the palm of his hand against the table nearby, causing Daubeny to flinch. 

 

"Whichever hand you least favor, put it here." The raider ordered, taking a step back as his prisoner stared at the table, the looked down at the raider's bloodied axe, heart pulsating fearfully.

 

"Wh-what?" The fair-haired soldier asked, tone wavering uncertainly.

 

"Whichever hand you least favor, put it here." Ragnar repeated with sick amusement staining his voice as thickly as the blood did the furs covering his body.

 

Daubeny bolted from the chair in an attempt to escape the situation, but both Siv and Ragnar were ready for it, the raider grabbing him by a shoulder to twist him around, foot connecting with the side of the warden's lame knee, sending him down without much effort.

 

Siv grabbed the warden's right arm, pinning it to the table as he attempted to pull it away, tears streaming freely down the knight's face as he began to plead. "Please! Please Ragnar, please don't!" Daubeny begged, aching body shaking with each sob as he began to openly cry. "Please, I won't do it again! I'll do whatever you want!"

 

His pleas went ignored as Ragnar lined up the axe and raised it above his head.

 

" _Dróttinn!_ "

 

The raider hesitated now, eyes alight with interest as he stared down at the trembling man kneeling before him. 

 

" _D_ _róttinn_ , please..." Daubeny whimpered, shutting his eyes when Ragnar grabbed at his chin to tilt his face upwards. "Look at me," the viking ordered sharply, causing the warden to flinch before cracking his eyes open.

 

"What are you?"

 

The question threw Daubeny off guard. "Wh-what?"

 

"What are you?" Ragnar repeated, impatience leaking into his voice now. 

 

"A-a-an _argr_." The knight stammered out uncertainly.

 

A cruel smile spread across the viking's lips as he laughed. "And who are you?"

 

Daubeny hesitated, his tears drying up in his confusion as he tried to figure out what it was that Ragnar was asking, and what answer he was wanting.

 

"Last time," Ragnar growled, recapturing his prisoner's attention. "Who are you?"

 

Mouth opening and closing several times, Daubeny struggled to think what answer the viking was looking for. "I-I don't know w-what y-you're asking!" The knight stammered.

 

"What is your name?"

 

Daubeny frowned. Ragnar never asked for his name, nor did the viking ever use it if he did know it. It was always... Realization dawned, and with it, dread. "Veslingr..." He whispered, averting his eyes from the viking who growled lowly. "Louder."

 

"Veslingr." Daubeny repeated, loud enough for both of the vikings to hear. 

 

Ragnar was laughing now, the viking patting his prisoner's cheek condescendingly before he pushed Siv away so that she released the warden's wrist, Daubeny pulling his hands in close to his body as if he could protect them.

 

"Remember my mercy, Veslingr. Rarely will I show it, and never will others." Ragnar murmured darkly before he turned away from the trembling knight.

 

 

**Present**

 

Daubeny clenched his jaw as he released the conqueror's wrists from his grip to let his hand fall to his side, Huron making a triumphant sound in the back of his throat. "See? He can't hold out much longer. Just give it a few more seconds and we can do whatever we want without worrying about him." 

 

Feeling around at his side in desperation the warden's hand closed over the rough surface of a stone, Daubeny gripping it tightly before swinging it upwards as hard as he could, connecting with the side of Huron's face with a wet crack, the conqueror crying out as he relinquished his grip on the warden's neck.

 

Air rushed into his lungs as Daubeny twisted his body to dislodge his startled guard, Huron half-turning towards the warden with a curse just as the warden struck him again. Getting himself up onto one knee, Daubeny felt the anger and hatred burn through his body almost as physically as the air entering his starved lungs, the warden grabbing at the conqueror's throat before he began to strike him with the stone over and over again, screaming like only a tortured being who'd had enough could.

 

There was blood, Huron wasn't fighting back anymore, nor was he making a sound as his two companions recovered from their shock and attempted to rip Daubeny away from his victim. Years of agony, humiliation, hopelessness, suffering and hatred fueled the warden's strength as he continued the assault on his would-be rapist, ceasing only after the lawbringer got him in a headlock from behind, lifting him off of Huron as the other conqueror attempted to tend to him.

 

Looking at his handiwork with satisfaction, Daubeny let out a laugh at Huron's state, the conqueror lying unmoving and silent in the grass, face bloodied and battered.

 

He hadn't felt this good in  _years_.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Hello fans and readers of Pernicious' amazing work,

 

I write this with a heavy heart to inform those of you that are still following/interested in his works that he passed away a short while ago to suicide. He always enjoyed writing, and I think we can all agree he had an amazing talent for storytelling and capturing his reader's attention. 

 

I would have posted this earlier, but I just got back from a long hiatus and got the email from his boyfriend tonight. 

 

We will miss him here amongst the pseuds, as we are all very connected and shared a love for writing. 

 

The future of Pernicious' stories that are yet unfinished remains unclear, as when I talked about it with the others, he only shared his ideas with one of us pseuds, and we don't know if it would ruin what he's already written. There are several unedited chapters for some of his stories that only wait a beta read and publication, but again, we are unsure about posting anything. "Til_Death_Do_Us_Part" has a lot of Pernicious' ideas and drafts from when he helped him write some of the scenes (specifically explicit material) as well as all of his plans for the plot, but TDDUP is unsure if he would be able to do Pernicious good if he attempted to finish it. There is also the question of what Pernicious would've wanted, and we are torn into two groups on that count. But while we figure that out we did agree that his readers should know. We all lost a friend, and many others lost an amazing writer.

 

Thank you and be well,

 

Malicious_Intent

 

 

 

**UPDATE:**

We have come to the decision that this story will be continued. At the very least with the content he has drafted here, then, based off of feedback, TDDUP will decide whether he will continue the story using the notes and plot ideas that Pernicious had shared with him. He isn't at all sure about this, but we all agreed that Pernicious always wanted his readers happy and to enjoy his writing. The ideas he had were incredible, and it would be a disappointment for them not to be shared. 

 

TDDUP is absolutely heartbroken about Pernicious' loss, as the two of them were very good friends and often shared ideas about what they wanted to write, and he is very concerned that he won't be able to "do him credit" on his work. Therefore, he whether he continues or not will be up to the readers. Thank you all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I am Til_Death_Do_Us_Part. I am the writer that will attempt to continue this amazing work, while staying as closely to the plot ideas and plans of the true creator. It's very odd writing anything about this story (or even editing) without me and him chatting over our headsets, passing around ideas and jokes, but it is no less an honor.
> 
> Pernicious was an amazing writer, and looking through his notes and ideas I am so amazed at what is to come with this story. It's unbelievable how someone can take an existing idea and twist the smallest details into things that make /sense/. I hope that I can do a good job with this story. Input from the reader's is greatly appreciated, bad or good, as Pernicious always took account of what people said and what even wasn't said. He wrote firstly for his readers, secondly for enjoyment.
> 
> Changes have been made to the tags, though changes that Pernicious was never able to make himself. This story just got a whole lot darker, and I was supposed to be the writer of /only/ the darkest scenes that could possibly serve as a trigger for Pernicious. Unfortunately this story now has a less-than-talented writer of actual content, though for the next few chapters I am mostly just editing.
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read this work in his memory. Any A/Ns he had written will now appear at the end of the chapters for the readers to see.

"I want you to tell me everything you know about the sickness Daubeny has. Possibly ways to lessen the symptoms, to help him recover, all of it." Holden could see the confusion on Elias' face, the auburn knight looking up at him uncertainly. "Sir, many believe that battlefield illness doesn't exist. That it's just an excuse for cowards to get out of service, or give them a reason to retreat from battle. It's not-"

 

"I don't care what others think! You said you knew what was wrong with Daubeny, and I want to understand it!" The lawbringer snapped, the warden looking up at him with a startled expression on his face. "Sir, can I just-"

 

"No." Holden cut him off, jaw clenched. "I want to know everything you think you know about him. Everything you've heard about the illness from others, and I swear to Deus if the next word out of your mouth isn't anything I want to know, I'll have you discharged."

 

Elias stared at his superior in utter surprise, the warden completely taken aback by the amount of aggression in the usually calm warrior. After several moments of silence, he shut his mouth and gave a brief nod. "As I told you before, battlefield illness is what we believe to be the guilt that catches up to us. Guilt for the things we've done or could've done. Things that happen to us or those close to us that continue to haunt us to whatever eternity the gods have in store for us." The younger knight stated, choosing his words carefully. "Some say this illness can afflict those that aren't fighters. Citizens. The medics. The assassins..." Blue eyes made contact with brown. "The officers."

 

Holden Cross didn't respond, instead choosing to remain silent until Elias would continue without urging. He didn't care if this man before him blamed him for what happened to Daubeny. He blamed  _himself_.

 

"From what I've seen and heard, Daubeny's illness started after he was captured by the vikings. The torture he endured. That is the core of his personal ailment." The blue-eyed man was saying, "he has scars on his body. So many scars. The only other soldier I've seen that had a chance on possibly competing for the most number on their body was a mercenary I knew. He was burned by the tar poured off a wall during a siege."

 

Elias was quiet for several moments.

 

"Tell me about them." The lawbringer spoke up, shifting in his seat as he impatiently waited for the other to continue.

 

"He's got an odd one around his neck. It goes all the way around," Elias moved a hand around his head to show his meaning, "some say he got it from a botched hanging. That the vikings wanted him dead before changing their minds. I don't think that's true, nor do I know the real story sir."

 

Holden just waved a dismissive hand. "Just tell me what you do know. Not the possibilities."

 

The warden gave a small nod before clearing his throat. "He has one that stretches the length of his spine. All the way from the back of his neck to the belt. There's a brand on his hip. There's just so many sir, I can't remember them all." Elias stated, voice uneasy. He didn't like remembering the horrific state his old employer's body had been in the few times he'd gotten a glimpse when the medics tended to him.

 

"Fine. What about the night terrors? The odd way he acts sometimes?" The larger warrior questioned.

 

Elias shifted uncomfortably. "Night terrors are like nightmares. The panic attacks are when he experiences something that makes him relive what happened. Some say that just a scent, a word, anything can set them off. I'd heard that one of the older warriors in our order had figured out what things caused his partner to have the attacks and was able to avoid them. I don't know if that's possible sir."

 

Nodding, Holden ran a hand over his head as he struggled to wrap his mind around what he'd been told. 

 

"Who cares? Once we merge with Apollyon again she's going to order his execution." 

 

Clenching his jaw at both the voice and it's content, Holden turned his gaze onto Ademar, his most current second entering the tent as if he owned the place. He was clad only in his tunic as all off-duty officers were, his silver eyes seemingly making a job of avoiding Holden's gaze.

 

_Yes, Apollyon most assuredly would order Daubeny's execution, and you'll be the one expected to play the role of executioner._

 

Holden felt his heart constrict at the thought. No, no he wouldn't do it. Even if Apollyon herself would execute him in the warden's stead. Hadn't Daubeny suffered enough for her plans? Years of torture just to save the legion a few days of travel? The more he actually thought about it, the more it made the lawbringer feel sick.

 

"Why are you here, Ademar?" Holden questioned coldly, the shorter blackstone warrior shrugging a shoulder. "I came to give today's reports."

 

The lawbringer clenched his jaw tightly before motioning for Elias to leave, the ex-mercenary seeming almost too-eager to leave as he grabbed his helmet from the table and made his way out. 

 

Holden pushed himself up now as well, frustration and anger warring within him as well as a little guilt. "Give me the reports." He ordered sharply, Ademar lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. "We're running low on supplies. If we continue the way we're going, we won't make it to Apollyon alive. At the very least not full strength. I've ensured that those aware won't be talking about it. Best to keep the men oblivious for now." The warden stated.

 

The lawbringer felt sick for a moment.  _Best to keep the men oblivious for now._ Ademar had said...  _Why? So they won't know any better? So they don't know that they could end up starving? So they won't put up a fight or run when they found out they're about to be handed to the vikings alive?_

 

"And what are you wanting to suggest?" Holden questioned.

 

"That we take the shorter route. Along the edge of Valkenheim." Ademar responded confidently. "That way we can cut down on how long it will take for us to get to the docks before the vikings have a chance to take it back."

 

Holden paused in his pacing, almost directly beside his second. "And what if we're attacked? We are at half our numbers without Apollyon's half of the legion." The lawbringer stated.

 

"Well then just offer them their whore again. It worked once, I'm sure it would work aga-"

 

Rage overtook Holden and he punched the warden hard, catching Ademar by the back of the neck as he stumbled to slam him face-down on the table. Angry, the lawbringer clenched his jaw as he attempted to calm himself down, his second in command breathing heavily as he attempted to push himself up from the table, but Holden only tightened his grip until the warden silently relented. 

 

Silence fell as Holden attempted to process his outburst. Ever since Daubeny had come back he'd been impatient and angry, moreso than usual, as well as frustrated... Though not entirely physically. The lawbringer cast a look around the room in search of the oil he used for his armor, but couldn't find it with an initial glance. He would have to improvise, not that he entirely minded. He needed to get rid of some of this frustration before he started making mistakes.

 

Holden wrapped an arm around Ademar to begin undoing the shorter's belt, the warden making no sound or movement to prevent him. Typical of Ademar. He never once questioned his commander when he sought him out like this, though never before had it been in actual anger. Daubeny would've been cursing and fighting right now. He hated being dominated like this, but sometimes Holden believed he just pretended to hate it. The memories were arousing for him, Holden feeling himself harden in interest.

 

The lawbringer now slid a hand up Ademar's tunic to wrap it around the smaller man's cock, the warden making a small sound of surprise at the sudden grip, a full body shudder passing through him as his commander pleasured him. The touch wasn't entirely pleasant, the younger knight having little interest in that part of himself when it came to sex, but in no way was he complaining as the calloused hand ran up and down the sensitive organ, a moan coming to the surface as Holden's thumb swept across the tip.

 

Listening to his second's sounds of pleasure, Holden felt his own erection harden almost painfully. He'd neglected both himself  _and_ Ademar in this sense for a little too long, even though the thoughts attempting to push into his mind did not involve the man beneath him. It made the lawbringer slightly sick as he pushed them away. What right did he have to think of Daubeny in that way? Even more shameful was the fact that he was arousing himself with thoughts of another rather than the knight currently moaning with the pleasurable rhythm of the hand on his cock.

 

Holden increased his efforts in pleasuring his subordinate, impatience leaking into his body as he ground himself against Ademar's back, the smaller knight's breath catching as he attempted to arc into the larger's hand as well as press back against him at the same time, slightly amusing the lawbringer. His current second was so easy to arouse, and the present was no exception.

 

"S-sir!" Ademar whimpered in pleasure, breath quick and shallow as his commander's free hand sought out his throat, fingers further constricting his ability to breath as the rough hand on his cock squeezed up and down it's length.

 

"Silence." Holden ordered firmly, a sound of approval escaping his throat when the shorter man shut his mouth with a soft whine, the lawbringer grunting when Ademar pressed back against him. 

 

Releasing the silver-eyed knight's throat, Holden growled softly as he gave his second's tunic a tug. "Take this off."

 

Ademar wasted no time in obeying, the knight biting the inside of his cheek to keep from complaining when his commander released his straining dick to allow for him to have the room to do as he was ordered.

 

The moment the cloth left his body Holden had the warden bent back over his desk, one hand back on his throbbing length.

 

Crying out at a sudden, painful squeeze, Ademar nearly choked as fingers found their way into his mouth, the knight groaning around them as he attempted to focus on doing what his commander no doubt wanted. 

 

Holden hummed with approval when his second began to suck on his fingers, the lawbringer leaning down to bite the tender flesh on the side of the warden's neck, teeth tugging slightly as Ademar's breath hitched, the larger knight soothing the area with his tongue. He could feel his subordinate's surprise at the action, something that Holden so rarely did, if ever. The surprise and confusion vanished nearly as quickly as it had appeared, Ademar gasping for breath when his commander's fingers left his mouth. "S-sir, I-" the knight gave a surprised grunt when a finger suddenly wormed it's way up his ass without any warning, a second quickly joining the first.

 

Moaning softly, Ademar arched into the fingers, Holden seeming to realize that he was close as he doubled his efforts to push the warden over the edge.

 

Ademar gasped as he came, warm, sticky cum spilling out of him over his commander's hand though Holden made no complaint, cupping his subordinate's cock gently as he gave the other knight a few moments to recover.

 

Working a third finger in alongside the other two, the lawbringer began to slowly thrust with them, a smirk touching his lips at the way Ademar was clinging to the table, a hint of trepidation seen alongside the pleasure in his expression. 

 

Holden took a hold of his own cock now, easily running his hand up and down as he coated it with Ademar's own cum, the smaller knight watching over his shoulder with a slightly confused look on his face. Slipping his fingers out of his second, the lawbringer grabbed onto the opposite edge of the table, his hand nearly touching Ademar's, as he lightly ran the tip of his aching member up the smaller's ass to press it against the waiting hole. Realization dawned on Ademar's face now, though Holden didn't give him a chance to say anything, the tall man choosing this moment to push into him.

 

Grunting softly as tight warmth enveloped him, Holden watched Ademar writhe against the table as his commander filled him with a single, almost painfully slow, push. The lawbringer didn't stop until his hips were flush with the other's ass, Holden groaning softly as he ground against Ademar, relishing the way that tight asshole clenched around him, the muscled back below him arching as Ademar moaned and whined for more.

 

Gripping the table's edge with both hands now, Holden slowly began to pull out before giving a sharp, inward thrust that drew a cry of pleasure from the soldier beneath him. That just wouldn't do.

 

"Quiet," the lawbringer ordered, covering Ademar's mouth with a sticky hand as he repeated the motion, grunting with pleasure. His cock ached, and he took a brief moment to wonder why he had neglected this part of his life -and thus Ademar's- for so long.

 

 _Because Daubeny is here, and he's the one you want._  

 

Holden pushed away the thought as he began to thrust in earnest, setting a rough, aggressive pace that had Ademar moaning against his hand in pleasure.

 

The warmth and spasming tightness around his member had Holden absolutely throbbing. The glow of the torches cast light on the two bodies, a sheen of perspiration reflecting it's cheery light, the crackling of the flame lost amidst the sounds of pleasure as both men sought release in one another.

 

Drawing upon the cusp of orgasm, Holden grabbed onto Ademar's hips as he completely ravaged the smaller man, pushing him into his second orgasm. "Sir!! _Please!!_ " The intensity of the pleasure in his officer's pleading voice had the lawbringer following him over the edge. Thick, hot cum shot deep into Ademar's ass with every pulse of the thick cock spreading him wide, coating his insides as Holden rolled his hips with the desire to get as deep as he possibly could while riding out the waves of pleasure.

 

"Commander!"

 

Both Ademar and Holden tensed, neither making a move even as the latter's fluids leaked out of the straining asshole to trail down the smaller man's trembling thighs.

 

Stone stood inside the tent, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the two in silence. There was no judgement there, and once Holden was able to recover from the shock of the lieutenant's blatant disrespect and disregard for his commanders' privacy (something not uncommon when it came to the conquerors as a whole, but most specifically Stone) he felt no shame for being caught in the act of fucking his second-in-command into the ground. After all, it was not uncommon for soldiers in  _any_ army to seek pleasure and release with one another. Just because a man occasionally slept with another man didn't mean that they weren't interested in women. There weren't many women in the legion, and the few that were there either had partners already, or had little interest with spending a knight in the tent of a comrade-at-arms.

 

"I find your continued lack of tact and respect quickly growing unamusing, Stone." Holden stated darkly as he slipped himself out of Ademar, the lawbringer quickly giving him a look over to ensure that there was no sign of injury or pain.

 

"So you've said, sir." The conqueror answered, one arm crossed over his chest to give him a platform upon which to rest his elbow. "I was also commanded by Elias to report... some trouble, sir. And he said 'without delay'." Stone rested his chin in his hand as a loose piece of the chain melted to his arm swung back and forth slightly. 

 

Holden glared at the much shorter man as Ademar pushed himself to rest on his side, looking incredibly embarrassed at the state in which he'd been caught. The lawbringer had had to tell him countless times that finding pleasure in one another was nothing to be ashamed of, but even after a decade of doing so his officer still seemed to be humiliated with it. Though Holden was beginning to wonder if something had happened to make him feel shame for wanting pleasure, or something of a similar scenario.

 

"Then  _report_." The blackstone general commanded sharply, voice cold and unamused. His obvious anger didn't seem to bother Stone, however, the shorter dipping his helm slightly. "We've got a situation with the traitor. Attacked one of his guards and put him in the med tent. He got roughed up a bit and found his way there too."

 

The conqueror's words had Holden's blood run cold, the hulking warrior grabbing a polishing rag to quickly wipe himself down before tossing a second to Ademar. He did his belt back up before grabbing his poleaxe and moving to leave the tent, stopped only when Stone stepped in front of him. "Perhaps you should fully dress, sir. For appearances and all." He stated.

 

Holden glared at Stone, leaning down slightly so he could make better eye contact through the holes of the other man's helmet. "Do I look like I care about appearances?" He hissed, the two staring each other down for a moment before a hidden grin broke out over the conqueror's face as he reached out to slap a hand on his commander's arm. "Looks like you don't give two shits, sir." He responded before turning around and exiting the tent ahead of his commander.

 

Fully annoyed now that he'd reached the end of his patience the lawbringer pushed out of the tent and past Stone, heading towards the med tent with a murderous expression on his face, clearly unnerving those he came upon as they all but scrambled to get out of his way.

 

Upon reaching the tent used for the treating of injuries, Holden threw aside the flap to enter, crouching slightly to avoid hitting the top of the doorway as he came into the tent. The newly lit torches brightly lit the inside, even if it cast eerie shadows among the empty cots. Empty save for two. 

 

Daubeny was sitting on the edge of one, a vacant, haunted look in his eyes as he stared at the wall, one hand at his neck as if shielding it. On his left hand side stood a massive lawbringer clad in spiked, black iron. The guard's arms were crossed over his chest and his face held a disinterested, uncaring look to it as he watched what was happening at the cot across from him. That was where Holden headed first.

 

"Report," the blackstone commander ordered as he drew up beside the cot, looking down at the battered occupant, Elias shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know the whole story. Just that Daubeny went berserk and beat the guy's face in with a rock." The warden responded in a professional tone.

 

Holden's suspicious gaze turned onto the other conqueror standing a little off to his right. "Why was he in reach of the prisoner?" The lawbringer questioned, stepping up in front of the soldier.

 

Obviously uncomfortable and nervous -definitely looking guilty as well in Holden's opinion- the stocky warrior took a step backwards. "I-I'm not sure, sir. We just... We just wanted to have a little fun is all." Seeing the anger build in his superior's eyes the conqueror began to backtrack. "I mean, we were just roughing him up and that! Nothing serio-"

 

Losing his patience with the pathetic existence of a man before him, Holden lashed out, punching the shorter across the helmet, the lawbringer turning to the medic as the conqueror stumbled and lost his footing from the force of the blow, crashing to the ground nearby. "Status."

 

The medic looked up from where she was inspecting the facial wounds, a stoic expression on her face. "Can't say yet, commander. It's bad. I don't know if he'll ever wake up." She answered calmly, all but ignoring the chaos around her.

 

"Let's make that an absolute, shall we?" Holden questioned, pushing Elias aside to get to the unconscious soldier. Before anyone could stop the enraged commander Huron was impaled through the chest with the end of the poleaxe, the strength and anger behind the blow driving it through the cot and into the earth directly below. 

 

The unconscious conqueror choked, blood peppering his lips with the occumpanying cough, the sound weak and fading as the man spasmed slightly, body eventually ceasing all movement as a faint gurgling broke the stunned silence.

 

"Everybody out." Holden ordered, pointing at the lawbringer that so far hadn't moved. "You! Stand outside and don't let anyone in! Elias, stay here. Everyone else, get out."

 

The medic snorted, turning to obey with a roll of her eyes. "Whatever. Saves me the work." She answered over her shoulder as she did so.

 

Now that he was for the most part alone, Holden now turned his attention onto Daubeny, the younger knight having not moved from where he'd been sitting, that same expression still on his face. "They tried to rape him." The lawbringer stated, not taking his eyes off of his ex-subordinate as Elias moved to stand beside him and regard the other warden as well. "That was my guess." He answered.

 

"And this is the sickness you talked about?" 

 

Elias was silent for a few moments before looking up at the taller warrior. "It is. He's caught in his memories. Re-living whatever they did to him." The warden answered.

 

"And how do I fix this? How do I get him out of it?" Holden questioned, moving closer to Daubeny now, though the latter made no sign of acknowledging the others' presence.

 

"I don't know sir. If you touch him, it could make it worse. If you leave him like that it might do the same." The newest blackstone recruit answered. "There's no way of knowing what would be the right approach in these cases." He added honestly.

 

Holden seated himself across from Daubeny now, the other's gaze remaining fixed on something past the lawbringer. "Daubeny...?" The blackstone commander questioned softly, a hint of sadness flickering through him when the other made no sign he'd heard. This was his fault. He'd done this to Daubeny. Had he perhaps tried to save him... Secretly sent Mercy to extract him, this could've all been avoided. 

 

"I have to fix this." The lawbringer murmured, more to himself than to Elias, the young warden remaining silent to let his commander process the situation. "Had I done something, I could've spared him the torture." 

 

"I've heard the rumors of what happened, sir." Elias stated quietly, gaze moving between the two men before him. "The only way you could've done anything to prevent it at that point would've been to put a sword through him."

 

Holden snorted. "Then that is what I should've done." He answered in a dark tone, leaning closer to the warden before him now. His brow furrowed slightly, his hardened persona cracking to show a little of the man beneath it. Not the ruthless officer that had stood by and watched as his second-in-command and occasional lover was taken away for years of torture, but the firm, righteous heart beneath it. "Daubeny?" Holden asked again, voice low as he reached out to cup the other's bruised face, seemingly forgetting that he wasn't alone.

 

That haunted gaze locked with Holden's, the brown of his eyes mirroring the other's as they regarded each other for several moments. It felt like hours passed, Holden's hand gently holding Daubeny's face, each staring deep into the other's soul. Holden could see the agony in the younger. The pain, the suffering, the hopelessness. He searched for the old fire that had once resided in the old Daubeny, while the warden recognized the guilt, rage, and self-hatred plaguing his old commander. While Holden searched for something familiar in the man before him, Daubeny searched the other for a sign of hope, of peace. While it felt like hours had passed for the two, it was only a few mere seconds before Daubeny pushed the lawbringer's hand away from his face, the mask covering his hurting soul while his commander's concern and anger was locked away behind his usual expression. It was like a vault slamming shut, re-trapping the emotion that it had kept hidden for the last several years.

 

Elias regarded the two in interest. In that -albeit brief- moment shared between the two knights he'd sensed that there was something there. Something much much deeper than any bond between any commander and their second. 

 

"I have dealt with Huron." The lawbringer was saying as he pushed himself to his feet now, "he will no longer be hurting you-anyone again. I've said time and time again I do not condone the treatment that Apollyon does when it comes to prisoners, and it's time I've shown there will be consequences if my orders are disobeyed." Holden stated darkly, Daubeny's gaze trailing over to where the dead conqueror lay, brow furrowed in confusion as he watched his old commander retrieve his axe, the end tacky with blood and other fluids.

 

"Elias," the warden straightened up when he was addressed, the lawbringer motioning to Daubeny with a tilt of his helm. "Get a medic to look at him. And get your lap dog to clean up this trash." 

 

Elias raised a brow at the obvious annoyance Holden portrayed for Stone, the fact that he and the conqueror had shared a few nights alone together seemingly spreading through more than just lower ranks. It didn't bother the warden however, much less Stone. Pleasure was pleasure, and they were both good at it. Not to mention they trusted each other enough to be vulnerable. There was no feelings there, on the contrary Stone seemed rather interested in the female warden known as Brigida. 

 

"Yes sir," Elias saluted as the lawbringer turned to leave the tent.

 

Looking down at Daubeny, Elias could see that the older warden was very much still confused about the entire situation, staring in the direction of the dead blackstone soldier with a frown.

 

"Targen!" The warden shouted, the tent flap moving aside so the lawbringer outside could bend over to see inside. "Sir?"

 

"Fetch the medic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I had to bring in another of the pseuds operating from this account because I really was uncomfortable with the direction the explicit scene was going in this chapter. He's the one that took over for the entirety of that scene.
> 
> I sort of feel like it was more of a dub-con scenario, but he says that it isn't since neither party said no nor was there any other reason that would make it that. I'm a bit uncertain, so if you guys read it and think it really is dub-con, please comment so so that I may add it into the tags.
> 
> I'm so sorry haha. I feel like this chapter is horribly lacking somehow... If you think so too and know something that may make it better, please let me know!! I can edit it at any time lol. Love you guys. <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took much longer than I had said... Than I had hoped... Some stuff happened preventing me from being able to complete any sort of work. Apologies. The rest will hopefully come faster.
> 
> I did some tweaking to add a specific character as I'm sure you'll notice.
> 
> Pernicious' a/n at end of chapter as usual.

"With respect, sir, that wouldn't be wise." Eliad had warned when Holden passed the order for the young knight to inform the rest of the soldiers that none were to lay a finger on Daubeny. The lawbringer had ignored the warning and the young officer had done as he was ordered. Not even a day had passed before rumors about Daubeny's "special treatment" surfaced and spread up through the ranks.

 

Ademar had been livid with his commander's decision, though he bit his tongue when directed with a look that demanded silence from him.

 

Seated at his desk, Holden sighed loudly in frustration, brow furrowed as he considered his options. He didn't care about what was said about him, but the commander did know that dissent in the ranks wasn't something to take lightly. Specifically with their dwindling supplies and the fact they may very well need to travel along Valkenheim's border for the larger majority of their trip before cutting inwards to the docks that Apollyon surely had occupied by now.

 

"Elias," Holden spoke up, hand running over his head before he sat back. "Inform the other officers to hand out the stock of alcohol. Whatever is left tomorrow is to be drained." The lawbringer ordered, the younger knight dipping his helm before turning to leave, Holden motioning for Ademar to stay behind. 

 

Once the tent flap had fallen into place behind Elias, the lawbringer sighed loudly and stood up. "I have decided to heed your advice and make a path along the vikings' border. Any unneeded supplies are to be left behind." He ordered, Ademar looking slightly unsure on how to take the fact that his advice was being taken into account. "The alcohol stores will slow us down. But insure a small amount is kept for medical purposes only. I'll trust you to see to the rest." 

 

Ademar kept his hands clasped behind his back as he gave a tiny nod, turning on his heel to leave the tent without a word, pulling the heavy fur cloak more tightly around him as the frosty air struck him full force, the knight's breath misting as he stood for a long moment. Frustration built in him as the dark haired warden turned his head to look in the direction of the prisoner, the ex-officer seated within a prison wagon. Their eyes met and Ademar's lip lifted in a leer as he felt a flare of hatred pass through him before he turned away, back to Daubeny as he made his way towards the supply wagons, booted feet making little noise against the frozen ground.

 

Cheers of excitement rode the winds to reach the moody knight, Ademar certain that news of Holden's 'gracious' offering had reached the ranks. Bitterness rose like bile in his throat, the warden's face hardening. His commander was going soft, and he was ultimately failing. Failure wasn't something he took lightly... He couldn't afford to. 

 

_Daubeny needs to go._

 

Ademar stopped walking now, one hand reaching up to stroke the face of one of the horses that pulled the supply wagons, brooding. What could he do to have Holden see that his old subordinate was a problem? Nothing, if Ademar was to be honest with himself. The lawbringer was too hung up on his guilt to see clearly, and any good officer would ensure to rid their commander of anything that tampered with their vision. Or more, Apollyon's vision.

 

"You!" Ademar shouted, motioning to a passing sentry. "Have Nikkolan and Ivo bring the prisoner to my tent. Then take your part in the festivities. I'll see about your replacement."

 

**********

 

Elias couldn't help but grin from where he had seated himself beside Stone, his friend and trusted ally seemingly focused on one thing... Brigida. The female warden was standing beside a campfire, others from her unit seated here and there as they talked and laughed, drinking a good amount of ale. The woman in question was quiet, however, auburn hair falling around her shoulders as she took small sips from her tankard, honey-colored eyes lazily roaming the others amongst the noise.

 

"Hm. Brigida's looking beautiful tonight," the young officer stated, taking a drink to hide his smile at the way Stone tensed up beside him. "Maybe I should see if she's interested in dancing... of some sort if you know what I mean."

 

Turning his gaze onto stone, Elias grinned at the way the older man was looking at him, a dark glare furrowing his brow as he regarded the warden in annoyance. "I know what you're doing, and stop it." Stone finally growled, turning away to drain his cup of ale in one long draught.

 

"Oh come on, Stone." Elias whispered loudly, nudging his companion with his elbow. "Just look at her, all by herself while everyone else is having fun, fire for hair," the brunette knight murmured in a teasing way.

 

"She's like a valkyrie," Stone breathed, seemingly losing himself as he stared at the woman that had stolen whatever he had for a heart.

 

Raising his eyebrows, Elias chuckled at the other's reference to the viking beliefs, shaking his head. "Why not just go and talk to her? Or, if you like, I can go and talk to her for you." The warden added, going to stand. "Are you mad??" Stone hissed sharply, grabbing the younger man's arm to pull him back down. "That would totally ruin my chances! She's strong, smart, me looking like a fucking child isn't gonna help me!" The conqueror motioned to the woman again, eyes wide. "She's said no to everyone! Even  _Alaric_ _!_ "

 

Elias frowned in confusion. "Uh, so..? She's eventually gonna say yes to someone. Wouldn't you at least try to make that someone you?" He questioned, Stone worrying his lip with his teeth before nodding. "Know what? I'm gonna do it. I'm going to go over there and ask her if she's ever played with a conqueror's flail."

 

Eyes widening Elias attempted to stop his friend, but was rendered speechless as he watched the heavyset knight make his way towards the other. "Oh gods this isn't going to go well," the young man murmured under his breath, taking another long drink of his ale as he watched the scene unfold before him.

 

Stone was speaking to Brigida now, the female warden looking first annoyed then confused and finally abhorred before she slapped the conqueror across the face, the sound of the strike seemingly loud in the chilly air as the fiery warrior proceeded to empty her ale in the taller knight's face and leave.

 

Covering his mouth to try and hide his amusement, Elias coughed as Stone turned towards him with a grin, giving a 'thumbs up' gesture before following at Brigida's heels, leaving the young blackstone knight completely confused as to what had just gone down.

 

All he knew was that he'd found Stone back in their shared tent, a wide grin on his face in company with a few nasty looking bruises. The warden didn't even ask.

 

*********

 

"Why am I here?"

 

Holden rubbed his hands against his face in frustration as he looked up at the only other occupant in the tent again, irritation written in his gaze. "Because, as I told you thrice before, I don't trust the common rabble with your well being when there's ale involved." The lawbringer answered, sifting through reports as he attempted to ignore the younger man standing nearby. "So I advise you to make yourself comfortable. I have work to do and you'll be remaining here for a while." He added in slight annoyance.

 

"I am not your dog, Holden." Daubeny responded sharply in response, the lawbringer's retort dying in his throat as he turned to look at the ex-blackstone member. Since he had first been captured by the legion, Daubeny hadn't so much as referred to Holden in any way, the traumatized warden specifically seeming to be incapable of expressing anything other than fear and hopeless subordination. The younger knight didn't meet his gaze however, the far wall of the tent seeming to be of the most interest for Daubeny.

 

"I wasn't referring to you as an animal, Daubeny," the larger man finally answered, slowly turning back to his reports. "I only stated my concern for your wellbeing and took actions to ensure that no harm could come to you tonight."

 

"Oh? Yet I was left to Huron's graces for several nights. Is Ademar too occupied elsewhere to warm your lap?"

 

Holden's mouth fell open in confusion as he turned to fully look at Daubeny again, the warden meeting his gaze for the briefest moment before seeming to curl in on himself and look away again. The lawbringer cleared his throat after several moments of stunned silence. "I dealt with it." He answered softly, waiting for a response though none came. Instead one of the guards outside the tent stuck his head in, looking somewhat concerned. "Sir, there's some trouble going on in the north end of the camp. Titus says viking activity was spotted by a sentry."

 

The lawbringer stiffened, remaining in his seat for several moments before standing up and grabbing his cloak and poleaxe. Why were vikings just now showing interest in the army wandering closer to their borders? The legion had shown no hostility as of yet, though the fact alone that a heavily armored legion of knights encrouching on territory borders could be seen as enough of a threat.

 

"Wait here," Holden ordered as he left the tent, Daubeny making no response as his old commander left the tent, arms crossed tightly over his chest in a seemingly defensive way, though the young warden was more cold than anything else.

 

The moment the tent was empty, Daubeny looked around with an unsettling feeling finding it's way to his stomach. Now that Holden was gone, he was alone in the tent. Anybody could come in and attack him, kill him, do literally anything with him and he would be powerless to stop it. However, the fact that vikings were nearby gave the knight an odd sense of safety, sickening as it was when he realized it.

 

Daubeny shuddered slightly as he moved away from the wall he'd been standing beside, wandering towards the middle of the tent and his old commander's desk. His eyes wandered the several papers scattered about, his hand hesitantly reaching out to slide them aside so that the weathered wood beneath it was visible. Odd how such a normal piece of furniture could hold so many memories, good and bad, the knight thought inwardly as his fingers traced over the numerous marks in the wood, made by knives meant to keep important maps and papers from blowing away.. And from the time when he and Holden were both younger and had decided to set the table up against the main support of the tent to throw all sorts of weapons at it in a night of drunken stupidty.

 

Frowning slightly as his eyes fell upon a piece of paper half buried beneath the others, Daubeny glanced around to ensure he was alone before quietly extracting it. It was a map of valkenheim, better than any he'd seen before, though he'd been away a long time. There were several important locations marked, but the valkenheim docks were marked more darkly than the rest in Mercy's tactful writing. The charcoal was slightly smudged but enough for the warden to see that Holden was going to be heading  _into_ Valkenheim at some point... Daubeny's blood ran cold at the thought of having to return to the frozen hell he'd believed he had left behind forever... Or more,  _hoped_ he had left behind.

 

Folding up the map Daubeny tucked it away within his tunic just as the sound of rustling cloth alerted him to someone entering the tent. Turning he came face to face with two massive figures carrying shields nearly as tall as they were...  _Black priors._ Legends had been told of the terrifying monsters that haunted the dreams of any who dared defy Apollyon. But what were they doing here? Here, when Apollyon was not? Perhaps some had been left behind?

 

All thought drained from Daubeny's mind as the two moved slightly so that there was a gap between them. "There's need of you."

 

Daubeny opened his mouth in an attempt to respond, shaking his head when no sound would come.

 

The left most warrior drew his sword then, placing it beneath his chin in a clearly threatening gesture. "That wasn't a request."

 

Daubeny trembled slightly as he looked up at the much taller man, a nervous laugh finally deciding now was the best time to make an appearance. "Do you really think I fear death?" He questioned, fear rising up in him when he realized exactly what he said, the larger warrior's cool smile further cementing his nervousness.

 

"No, you fear much worse."

 

Cold washed over Daubeny as he slowly reached up to get his hand between the tip of the blade and his throat. "Where are you taking me?" He questioned finally, voice soft in his fear.

 

"Ademar wishes to speak with you. Privately." The shorter spoke up now, reaching over to grab a hold of the warden's elbow, his companion mirroring his action. " _Privately_."

 

Daubeny attempted to get himself free of their grip for a brief moment, fear worming it's way into his core. "Call for help, and we'll give you something to truly scream about."

 

Biting his tongue to fight back the tears, Daubeny just gave a mute nod as he was half-dragged from the tent and into the cold night. Snow had begun to fall, but the soldiers around celebrating for whatever reason didn't seem to notice as they brawled and laughed loudly. It was all too familiar, yet so new at the same time.

 

Dragged along between the bigger warriors Daubeny attempted to wrap his mind around the fact that Black Priors were not only present, but seemingly  _obeying_ Ademar. He'd heard they answered only to Apollyon. Unless... Daubeny didn't have time to finish his thought when he was pushed into another tent, the warden's breath coming in short, frightened gasps as he came face to face with Ademar in the privacy of the other warden's tent, two Priors effectively blocking his escape when he attempted to back away.

 

Ademar smirked in amusement as he watched the man he hated look at him like an entrapped animal. "Daubeny, pleasure you could join me," the warden stated coldly, placing emphasis on the word "pleasure", loving the way it made the other knight squirm.

 

"Why am I here?" Daubeny questioned softly, feeling as if his body was paralyzed and incapable of moving. It was so hard to breathe... 

 

"Well, seeming as you are a distraction to the Commander, something has to be done." Ademar answered, silver eyes looking the other warrior up and down for a long moment. "But I am a man of honor, so I will present you with a choice, coward."

 

Daubeny clenched his jaw at the insult though he made no attempt to respond.

 

"So you either leave this tent in the company of the Priors," the silver-eyed knight murmured, stepping close so his face was almost touching Daubeny's. "Or you get into bed with them." Ademar motioned to the nearby cot as Daubeny attempted to wrap his head around what the other knight was saying. "Sounds like the same thing with different wording," he finally responded, voice void of any emotion.

 

Ademar laughed. "Truly? Seems more that you're considering it then, aren't you?" He questioned, shaking his head in mock pity. "You leave here, you die Hervis Daubeny. You bed us, you have a place in the army as exactly what you are..." The dark knight leaned closer, "our  _whore_."

 

Without giving his actions a thought, Daubeny head butted Ademar as hard as he could, attempting to follow up his attack though he was quickly made immobile by his larger captors, the knight's jaw clenching as he regarded Ademar with defiance, chin lifted slightly.

 

"Shame," the black-haired knight murmured darkly as he wiped away the blood trickling from his nose, "I would've shown you a real reason to beg." He stated coldly, jerking his head in an obvious command.

 

Daubeny dug his feet into the ground beneath him as he attempted to lunge at Ademar again, the other man laughing in obvious enjoyment. "You're a shell of who you were, Daubeny. The Wolf of Apollyon is no more, even less the stone that sharpened the legion's blade." The knight shook his head. "A pity. Just die knowing that Apollyon will rule supreme, and Holden will be kept under heel."

 

A cry of rage tore itself free of Daubeny's throat as he attempted to pull away from the other two warriors, screaming in hatred when a mailed hand was placed tightly over his mouth, the priors effortlessly lifting his thrashing body between them to carry him from the tent. 

 

Desperately looking around for some sort of aid, Daubeny fought the bigger warriors with every ounce of strength he possessed, though it was very little, fear warring with his anger as he realized he was being carried off into the woods. Nobody noticed as distracted as they were with the 'festivities', but would anyone have helped anyways?

 

Hot tears flooded the young knight's eyes as he finally allowed his body to go limp, submitting to whatever fate had in store for him as the trees hid the small group from sight. Daubeny could see the branches passing above him, and the moon beyond them. He'd always been fond of the moon and stars, shining so brightly regardless of what horrors plagued the world below. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to die beneath them.

 

A soft whistling sound split the silent air around them before the knight at Daubeny's feet gave a muffled cry and stumbled backwards, dropping the warden's legs in the process. Taking the chance, the captive knight twisted his body to plant his booted feet against the second's hip, kicking with all his might. The force of the sudden blow had the prior grunting in surprise, completely releasing his hold on the smaller.

 

Landing hard on the ground beneath him, Daubeny coughed as the air was knocked from him, the young knight pushing himself up into a half sitting position before looking around to see what had happened. The shorter of the priors was getting back up, the shaft of an arrow deeply imbedded in his shoulder. The man didn't make it to his feet before a second tore through the chainmail protecting his neck, impacting flesh with a sickening thud.

 

A flash of moonlight on iron caught Daubeny's eye, the large shadow of a horned warrior causing him to freeze up. He noticed the second prior attempting to stand, and he thrust his arm in front of him to stop him. "NO! Don't waste your life," the warden ordered, uncertain as to why he had prevented his would be murderer from possibly posing enough of a threat for an arrow to find it's way to him as well. Turning to the shadow, now joined by others, Daubeny fought to find his voice. " _Ikke skyt! Jeg er ubevæpnet og ingen trussel mot deg._ " He finally stated, holding his hands out to prove he was indeed unarmed.

 

" _Og hva med vennen din? Han kommer pansret, og bevæpnet for kamp._ "

 

Breathing heavily in fear, Daubeny turned to look at the prior, attempting to ignore the disgusted look on the other's face. The blatant hatred. "Drop your weapons." He murmured.

 

The prior laughed, though the sound contained no amusement. "I am Ivo. I don't surrender." He responded, lifting himself up to one knee before directing his look towards the shadows drawing ever closer. "APOLLYON WILL RULE! BLACKSTONE WILL WIPE YOUR WRETCHED BLOODLINE FROM THE EARTH!" He shouted, lifting his blade to his own throat, Daubeny attempting to grab him as moonlight briefly flickered over the silver blade, blood tainting it's glow as the prior slumped forwards to the ground, gurgling sounds reaching Daubeny's ears as the warrior bled out upon his own blade.

 

Shaking his head as tears ran down his face at the senseless loss, Daubeny sat back on his knees and turned his gaze upwards to look at the viking now standing above him.

 

The raider greeted him in broken latin. "Hello,  _Veslingr."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I just wanna use this time to thank all of my readers for their comments and taking the time to read my story. It really has served as a great motivational point for me, as well as helping me through what's been a difficult time lately. I love you guys so much and hope you can continue enjoying the story. :)

**Author's Note:**

> ALSO ANOTHER WARNING: The timeline might be a bit messed up but I'm going to try and keep it as close as possible to the game.
> 
> This story is going to be rather dark in some places.


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